Two Robots walk into a bar.

Ting! 

They aren't hurt, just matching dents on their robot shins now.

Who puts a low bar at the entrance of The Robot Bar?

I have wondered what you feel like for so long. You met my Grandfather, and I wondered if you were as gentle and quiet as you appeared. You took my little cousin, and I asked how you could take so long, and let him suffer as he did. You gathered five souls eight years ago, at the fire in Milton's Gym. Did you want them? could they speak to you? Did you order their arrival, or did you need to rush to the scene to take them in time? You gathered twenty more after the shootout last year. Did you want those souls? Do you see their killers as loyal servants, ready to sacrifice to you at their own risk? Are they an annoyance instead, overeager evil - doers who make you do more work than wanted? Do you even care about who you take? What happens to them after they meet you? If anything happens at all? You don't only take people. You take animals, plants, dreams, innocence. You take beliefs and industries. You took my mobility just a few weeks ago. You have taken so much from the world, both good and bad. I have known you in many ways over my lifetime. Just as I have known you, I know that you will come to meet me soon. You are a social one - you forget to come for nothing. When you come, I hope it is to meet me, not to take me. I have heard and learned so much about you - forgive me when I greet you as a well known friend and companion.

High school was the best time.

Boys learned to be men,

Girls blossomed into women.

What's so hard about it?

There are no worries.

There are no struggles.

What is wrong with kids?

I don't do enough.

That's what I've been told.

Seventeen with no job, no car,

No friends for miles, no man.

What do I spend my life on?

What have I been doing?

Why am I so behind?

My wrists no longer bleed

But my hands don't carry

The calluses of a working lady.

The breath I wasted

Gasping at a good grade

Should've been labored on work.

Why am I so useless?

My head no longer beats

The dull drum of pain;

Instead it insists on

Reminding me of past failures

Thoughtless and careless actions

I thought I'd planned so well.

Why am I so irresponsible?

My GPA reads that I am good,

But my bank account nulls.

My cards don't exist

Though no one yells about debt.

Zeros are worse than debt.

Without money, I'm useless.

Why can't I do anything right?

My ribs aren't visible

But my face isn't slathered in make-up,

My hair never done,

My nails untamed.

Not like something deters efforts

Since I just "play around".

Why can't I be normal?

I have never broken a bone,

The words of hard defeat.

My back merely bends,

Not snaps from the world's weight.

My heart merely thuds,

Not races from the rat race.

Why can't I be good enough for you?

I am merely a clam,

Smothered under your pressure.

Something inside of me grows,

But I am not to touch it,

Not to nurture it as I need to,

Not to learn to take care of it.

Why can't you see?

I am crumbling.

My once iridescent light

Sullies under your weight,

Dents under your mass,

Succumbs to your pressure.

My pearl is no longer a sphere,

Rather a mushy, oozing ball.

Why can't you just let me be?

I want to revert to the bad,

Cut arms and missing assignments,

Sleeping and eating all day,

Not even trying to suffice.

My efforts are invalid anyway.

But I wouldn't feel this way

If you had just stopped pressuring me.

Let's pray

To whom?

To where?

Up there?

I just stare

At the quietness 

Up there!

Why do we pray?

Isn't it gods will anyway?

It doesn't matter what you pray for

It's gods divine plan what he has in store

I've tried praying

But never did i receive hope

Left harmed without a rope

Religion to me

Is a disease of the mind

Controlling you

Until you go blind

I can't partake in this sheep based path

Oh! But if i don't follow him

I'll burn in hell from his wrath!

........sounds like blackmail to me.

K.j.a.

Once upon a time,

I fell deeply and madly in love

With a boy who promised me the world.

I should've known he was a liar,

No one can give anyone the world.

We dated for a few months,

Before I would allow him to fully touch me.

Then one night, we made love.

It was beautiful, passionate, and tender,

I never wanted it to stop,

But it did.

I woke up the next morning

To an empty bed and cold sheets.

He had fled with my virginity;

I gave him every piece of me,

But he only wanted what

I could never give to someone else.

He never did love me.

Now, I've become a thief

Breaking boy's hearts,

Taking their virginities

As I promised them the world,

Whispering forever and tales of love

Against their lips,

Knowing I would leave

In the middle of the night

To my next victim.

I will not be broken, again.

They say that there is a God.

They say that He is a he.

They say that He is white.

They say that He is straight.

They say that He has plan for us

But I fear it is not great.

They say He gives no one,

A burden they cannot shoulder.

They say that everything He does,

Has a purpose, has a cause.

But if that were true,

Then God would be a she.

Then God would be of color.

Then God would be gay.

God would represent the minority.

Not the choice majority.

Then God would not have a plan for us.

But let us walk free.

Then there would not be sickness,

There would not be starvation,

There would not be war or discrimination.

Then God would not say that hunger.

Is a burden a child can bear.

Then people would live in peace.

Then people would love each other.

Then criminals would be behind bars,

and innocents would walk the streets.

They say there is a God.

They say it must be so.

They want it so bad,

They think it doesn't show.

If there is I hope God's deaf.

For He has answered too few prayers.

They say we're too small to speak to God,

They say we must have faith.

But if there is a God.

A God who truly cares.

He'd know that we matter,

He'd know that we were there.

The first time I drank, it was with my BFF, let's call her Kelly. I was spending the night at her house, which I often did; my mother was too uptight for us to stay there. And Kelly would often complain, “Your mom makes us clean when we stay at your house.” And it was true, she did. Especially in comparison to Kelly’s mom. Kelly was the youngest of three girls, and her mom literally would spend all weekend cleaning the house, and picking up after everyone. I remember many-a-time, I would go to clean up after myself and Kelly would say, “Just leave it, my mom will clean it up.” And it was true. I never heard her complain about it either.

Her mom, let's call her Kim, loved to drink diet coke with ice. Obsessively, she drank her stinky diet coke, with her loud ice chewing. She was not only the maid, but she also drove everyone around, everywhere, also without complaint. And on her drives, she would first have to get a fresh glass of her diet coke, with her many clinging ice cubes. So I’m not sure where, or whose idea it was, but we decided to drink one night in Junior High. I’m guessing Kelly, since I wasn’t aware of the alcohol in the house. Doesn’t really matter, her parents blame me for ruining their daughter, so no matter which way we cut it, it was my fault; all of Kelly is my fault. Even her bulimia, which came years later, which I informed her mother of, which she probably still denies to this day. Hey, I have three boys, I totally get the safety of denial. Anyway, Kelly informed me that there was rum. You see, Kelly’s mom wasn’t just the maid and the taxi driver, she was also the chef. She would make these amazing dishes, Italian, and leave them out for everyone to eat at their leisure. They didn’t have balanced meals with sit down family style, which of course, with my Type A mother, we did at my house . . . said in my mom’s bossy voice “you have to have a meat, vegetable and a starch Sara. And always serve a salad . . . no matter what, you always have a salad.” Which is hilarious, since the salads she served were basically water lettuce, I don’t think she ever met a dark green leaf in her life. My favorite was Kim’s stuffed shells. Damn they were good. And not filling at all, so you could indulge . . . which, fast forward a few years from first drink to 420, and those stuffed shells really came in handy. On top of her meals, which she stored and kept warm in the oven, were her endless desserts. There was ALWAYS a baked sweet in the microwave. Her favorite was the yellow cake with chocolate frosting, or maybe that was my favorite. Yeah, by 420 years, we were all set at Kelly’s house. Back to the first drink. So we had “mom’s” diet coke and “mom’s” rum for dessert cooking, and we had two "soon to be alcoholics" ready to take their first drink . . . and second . . . and then we were discovered in the AM, by Kim, in the bathroom, curled around the toilet. Ok, I can see now why her parents blame me. 

Fast forward about a dozen or more years and you'll see Kelly taking me to my first AA meeting. I was 28 years old, Kelly was high as a kite, claiming 2 years sobriety, and 3 months prior my mother had died from complications of a failed suicide attempt. Or maybe it was a successful attempt, just delayed 6 months. This is when alcohol truly became my best-friend. Today, when the bottles of vodka wink at me in the store, I only see an ex-boyfriend that use to rape me.

Kelly and I didn’t accidentally meet and become BFF in 5th grade, we were meant to be; to be alcoholics, separately now, but the same nonetheless. One drinking, One sober.

I hope I can help bring her to the latter someday, and I pray I remain there.

I was only seventeen years old when I had a baby. Don't get me wrong, to this day I love my son, Brian, with all my heart, but being a teenage mother was the hardest thing I've ever done. Teen moms are the butt of many jokes. You wouldn't believe how many times I was told that I wouldn't finish high school. And college? Well, college just didn't exist if you were a teen mom, apparently. But guess what? I managed to graduate both high school AND college....but things didn't get easier after that. They just got harder. Thank God for good people like the Flower Lady. 

I had just rented my first apartment. It was a dingy little place, but it didn't matter at that point. I just wanted to get away from my family. At first, they adored Brian. He was a cute, cuddly, bundle of joy.  But then he grew into a toddler.  My parents got angry at me every time Brian began to cry in the middle of the night; they would even threaten to kick me out of the house every so often. But it wasn't until Brian (probably) gave my parents a nasty week-long stomach virus that they gave me a date I had to be out of their house. 

By that point, Brian was close to being four years old. I had an associates degree in retail management and a few thousand dollars saved up. I planned on using that money for the first months rent of the apartment and Brian's childcare bill. Other than those few thousand dollars, I had absolutely nothing. (And before you ask, no, Brian's father wasn't in the picture. He dumped me as soon as he found out I was pregnant.) 

My life became terribly hectic. I would wake up, get ready, get Brian ready, catch the bus, drop him off at daycare, go work at a local department store for ten hours, pick up Brian, go home, shower, sleep, then repeat it all the next day. It reached a point that I couldn't remember the last time I had a day to just relax. Taking off from work wasn't an option. I needed every penny in order to keep food on the table for Brian. I couldn't wait for the day Brian was old enough for kindergarten. Then, I wouldn't have to pay such a high childcare bill anymore. 

The only peaceful part of my day was the Flower Lady. She lived next door to me. From what I could tell, she lived alone. Her front deck was decorated with some of the prettiest flowers I've ever seen. Every morning, she would smile and wave to me as I rushed to the bus stop with Brian in my arms. I never even waved back. But those flowers...they just made me happy. The Flower Lady took such good care of them. Oh how I wish I had told her just how beautiful those flowers were...

It was just like any other day. I had dropped off Brian and gone to the department store. Before I could do anything, my boss called me into his office. "Listen," He said to me in a dull, tired tone. "The company is having budget cuts and I'm afraid we're going to have to let you go immediately."

I felt numb. That job was all I had. Sure, there were other jobs out there, but at that exact moment, I had two dollars in my bank account. I knew it would take at least a week to secure another job. "Please," I stuttered. "I need this job more than you know."

But my boss wouldn't budge. I left that building feeling like a complete and utter failure at life. I needed to feed Brian. Rent was overdue. I was all alone. Frantically, I pulled out my cell phone. I called my cousins, parents, old friends, and even a few churches. But none of them were willing to loan me some money. I couldn't blame them. Who would want to loan money to a teen mom like me?

I picked up Brian from daycare. I refused to let him see me cry on the bus ride home. When we got back to the apartment, he asked me what was for dinner. That's when I lost it. I bawled my eyes out in front of Brian. "I'm so sorry sweetie." I whispered. "Mommy will get you some food tomorrow morning, I promise."

But I knew I couldn't keep that promise. The area I lived in was wealthy and there wasn't any soup kitchens.  I reached the conclusion that I would have to go to the grocery store and see how many Ramen noodles I could buy for two dollars. I hated myself at that moment. I had to feed my son Ramen noodles and tap water. I was most certainly the worst mother ever.

Once I had tucked Brian in for bed, I sat down on my couch. It took two hours for me to fall asleep. My body woke itself up at seven the next morning. Before I woke Brian up, I noticed a pink envelope was sticking out from beneath my door. I picked it up and opened it. a crisp 100 dollar bill fell out and floated gently to the ground. Shocked, I read the note. 

Dear neighbor,

You may not know me, but I think I have a pretty good idea about what you're going through. You're a young, single mother struggling to get by. Believe me when I say I completely understand how you feel. I too was a single mother. And guess what? It was hard. But in the end, it all turned out okay. Looking back, I'll never forget the people who helped me when I most needed it. There's nothing wrong with needing some help, dear. Remember that.

Last night, I couldn't help but hear you crying. I felt so bad, but I wasn't sure what to do. It's my last day in this apartment building. I'm actually moving across the country to live with my daughter and her husband. I have few life savings, but it's money I'll never use since I'm living off my family from now on. (What can I say? I'm old.) So, I've used my money to pay one month of your rent. There was 100 dollars left over. 

I believe in you.

Sincerely, 

The Flower Lady

I began crying again, but this time it was tears of joy. I walked over to her apartment to thank her, but I was surprised to find that it was up for rent. I asked the landlord, and he said she had left early in the morning. "Does she have a cell phone? Email address?"

The landlord shook his head. 

It's been a year and I still haven't been able to thank the Flower Lady in person. That 100 dollars got me through two weeks of feeding Brian. The paid rent gave me time to find a stable job. I will never forget the Flower Lady's kindness. Sometimes all you need is someone who believes in you, even if it's a stranger.

THE END. 

A little boy wanted to meet God. He knew it was a long trip

to where God lived, so he packed his suitcase with Twinkies

and a six pack of root beer and he started his journey. When

he had gone about three blocks, he met an old woman. She

was sitting in the park just staring at some pigeons.

The boy sat down next to her and opened his suitcase. He

was about to take a drink from his root beer when he noticed

that the old lady looked hungry, so he offered her a Twinkie.

She gratefully accepted it and smiled at him. Her smile was

so pretty that the boy wanted to see it again, so he offered

her a root beer. Again, she smiled at him. The boy was

delighted.

They sat there all afternoon eating and smiling, but they

never said a word.

As it grew dark, the boy realized how tired he was and he

got up to leave, but before he had gone more than a few

steps, he turned around, ran back to the old woman, and

gave her a hug. She gave him her biggest smile ever.

When the boy opened the door to his own house a short

time later, his mother was surprised by the look of joy on his

face. She asked him, "What did you do today that made you

so happy?" He replied, "I had lunch with God." But before

his mother could respond, he added, "You know what? She's

got the most beautiful smile I've ever seen!"

Meanwhile, the old woman, also radiant with joy, returned

to her home. Her son was stunned by the look of peace on

her face and he asked, "Mother, what did you do today that

made you so happy?" She replied, "I ate Twinkies in the

park with God." However, before her son responded, she

added, "You know, he's much younger than I expected."

Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile,

a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the

smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn

a life around.

People come into our lives for a reason, a season, or a

lifetime. Embrace all equally!