The Irony Of The Words

 I have been going through my oldest blogs and working my way up, looking for some memories as I have begun to finally write my book.  And I came across this entry that I wrote sometime in 2008, while I was still living in Sumter, South Carolina.  I was talking about finally realizing what had driven me to move to SC.  At the end of the  blog, Id written:

I think SC is for the here and now. The move was necessary....Id lost my love for and my hope in Boston. I need a few years to sort of regroup and EXHALE, to see some more of the world and see how I react TO the world...but then I need to return to the city, maybe Boston, maybe Baltimore. Maybe I can view it through "new eyes" with a revitalized spirit and energy. Return with a new path for my life. To get back on the track that has always guided me..to make a DIFFERENCE. They say home is where the heart is, and right now..my heart isn't in Boston OR SC..it is still searching, if that makes sense.

The irony is that the only reasons that I returned to Boston were stressors.  My child had been murdered, my health was suffering, my teenaged daughter had just delivered a baby that had complex medical needs and was expecting another baby...MY LIFE WAS FALLING APART AROUND ME.  I had an incredible support system around me in Columbia, where I was living, but I needed my Mother and sisters love.  I needed to be able to see their faces and to feel their hugs when I needed to.  To be able to see my son and daughter in law when I wanted to.  And I figured we would come back to Boston and my inner peace would return instantly.

Welp...I was correct in that my joy returned in that I was able to see my family whenever I wanted to.  I've missed hanging out with them and cooking for them.  But other than that, Imani and I knew within weeks..we HATED being back in Boston.  We knew we had made a mistake returning.  Yes, it is amazing healthcare for me and for the boys, there is no denying that.  I will not pretend that you really have to do your research and invest time and patience to make sure to find the right doctors and resources for specialized care in South Carolina.  And so we have taken advantage of every resource that we need to take advantage of here.  But internally, SC became our home.  Everything that I had been looking for?  The place to belong?  To make a difference?  To be an activist?  To be a voice and make a change?  I was doing that.  We had created a family down there.  A family that we miss.  Id found my poetry scene, my singing scene, my open mic scene, my Waiting to Exhale Crew.  

Like I said before...They say home is where the heart is.  And I'm no longer searching.  After living there for 9 years and being back here in Boston for 3 years, I know that South Carolina is home for us.  We are staying here for 1.5 more years, but the plan is to absolutely return to SC at the end of the school year in 2022.

Writers Block and Stuck Keys

Of course, now that I FINALLY made the decision to actually move forward and be intentional about writing my story while simultaneously doing a book of poetry (because doing just one wouldn't be enough..I need to go ALLLLL the way) I have the worst case of writers block ever!  And not only that, but this daggone laptop has decided that every other 20 minutes, the t and y keys will stop working for 20-30 minutes or more, and I have to shut everything down while I sit here fighting with it.

Mmmm..before I forget..the powers that be in the algorhythems ( I know just butchered the spelling of that huh?)  at both FB and IG have deemed my blog abusive, so I can't share the blog on them any longer.  Well, I may be able to share the link to the general blog itself on fb, I haven't tried that method yet.  But it won't let me post links to the actual blog posts.  And IG...whew...they shut me down completely like a month ago.  Locked my whole damn account down.  I can still log in and see everything.  I can respond to dm's.  And post pictures, but that is it.  Can't like pics.  Can't even caption my pics.  I had to just start a whole new account.  I messaged IG support like 7 times because when I look under violations, it say I actually have none, but have gotten no response so far.  So there's that.

Let's see what else is happening.  Oh yeah...this week is the first week that Bry will have 4 days at school!!!!  Oh Em Gee!  I am not gonna know what to do with myself.  I kind of want to go to the gym, but the lazy in me is basically laughing at that.  I kind of want to go vote early.  But I'm also kind of worried that if I vote early, something mysterious is going to happen to all of those early votes and they will disappear or something.  I don't trust 45 as far as I can through him and his toupee.

This will be a short entry.  I was hoping that as I typed, I would kickstart my brain into think mode and I'd find something to write about.  I'm gonna go read some old journals to jog my memory and then do some writing about earlier years.

Ready To Go

 Free Writing from my FB writing group. I have finally decided to make the leap into writing my book after contemplating it for many years.

Ready To Go

I stared dejectedly through the windshield as I thought to myself "Fukk this Lis! You tried 15x already. Just leave the shyt alone and go home."

I glanced out of the drivers side window and two of the barbers from "We Cut Headz" Barber Shop were standing outside, smoking and watching everything that I was trying to do, laughing quietly. This just pissed me off even more and made me even MORE determined.

Taking a deep breath, I made up my mind to carry this thing through, even if it killed me in the process. First, I needed to make peace. I closed my eyes and began a quick prayer to Allah. I'd be missing many of the pre prayer requirements, but Allah is all seeing, and he sees my heart. First, I prayed for my family, then I apologized for the 5 lb bucket of Jelly Belly Jelly Beans that I have selfishly been hiding in the back of my closet in order to avoid sharing with Mani, Michelle and Marcus, And I apologized for the damned good, but very out of Wedlock and therefore Haram fornication that I was enjoying tremendously with Marcus each night. And Ameen. After that very important cleansing, I felt like Allah knew my heart was coming to HIM pure and HE was ready to help me. So I took a deep breath.

And so I pulled the car forward a little bit and then carefully checked my side and rear mirror---no obstacles, so I'm good to go. I slowly tried to maneuver my way via twists and turns into the parallel space. Yeah Lisa!!! Good job! BAM BISH!!!!

Except......When I got out of the car, I was about 2 feet away from the curb...maybe 3. FUGGGGGGGG!!!!! Alrighty then..... Pull away and repeat. Pull back a little further this time. Now my rear bumper slams in the curb, and I'm damn near sticking straight out into the street.

Pull out and start again............Grrrrrr

Pull out and start again............Grrrrrr

Pull out and start again............Grrrrrr *sniffle sniffle*

Turn off the music, so I can really concentrate and see better

Give the pep talk. Let her know we can go get a car wash and detail. Maybe an oil change

Pull out and start again............AHHHHHHHHHH

Now I'm cussing this damn car....she's an ugly, ungrateful bish who doesn't appreciate how good I treat her and I'm selling her for parts after work anyway!

Sitting in the car, looking dejectedly out the windshield and I feel a presence. I look up and the man from the barbershop is leaning in my window. Ooooh, a handsome man!! I bust out my best flirty, sexy smile "Hey, how ya doing hunee?" He says " Baby Girl, c'mon outta this car. I'm just gonna park this shyt for you" And then he proceeds to do a perfect park in about 3.2 seconds, and jump out and go back to the barber shop.

Have you ever tried to walk away with some sense of dignity when someone just made you feel like you accidentally left your specially fit helmet, fig newtons and juice box on the little yellow bus?

Tonight I Lay In My Bed Listening

This is something that I originally wrote in I think 1999-2000.  I recently found it and updated a few lines to make it current..  Its a little dark, but a lot of my poetry tends to be more on the social commentary side.

Tonight I Lay In My Bed Listening 

by Lisa Robinson 2000

Tonight I lay in my bed listening.

Listening to the sounds of a woman.

She screams, this woman. Somebody’s mother, sister, daughter, lover.

I listen as she screams. Screams for all of the things that were…but will never be again.

She remembers

Remembers perhaps, the first time she touched the tiny brown face and looked into his eyes.

She remembers those first unsure steps, the first cry of “Mama”….she remembers the baby.

She remembers the tears on the morning he first began school, and the laughter as he returned home.

Maybe she cries for the times of pain – cries for the bruises, skinned knees, maybe even broken bones. All of which will heal in time.

She cries for the boy

Maybe she cries for the pains that will not heal. For the time that her child, who has been loved and adored since birth, came home and asked “Mama, what is a nigger?”

She cries for the time that his heart has been broken, the pain of a first love.

She cries for the pain, the anger and frustration he feels, every time he “fits the description” or “she crossed the street and clutched her purse when she saw me”.  He is becoming a Black Man

She cries for the simple irony of it all. That someone who came out of an act so beautiful, so tender and loving…could be taken away in an act so UGLY, so VIOLENT so HATEFUL!

He will never hear her cries! 

He was somebodies father, brother, son and lover.

She cries because she knows this. He has been taken away. Never again to be held, kissed, caressed or told “I Love You”

Tonight I lay in my bed listening to the cries of a woman. 

It is me; and I’m crying for all of the mothers who have lost a child.