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Examining My Close Calls.

Updated on May 26, 2022
MFB III profile image

Artist, actor, poet, teacher, songwriter & actor with 4,000 poems & almost 1,000 songs written, performed recorded & published on line.

We all have them....moents were death taps us on the shoulder and then changes his mind

death can be quite insidiuos and luckily he does not always get his way

Examining my close calls.

Lately I have been 
my close calls
all those many 
wrong numbers 
where death 
spent a small fortune
dropping change
in the slot of my fate
and putting the 
fear of God in me.
Each one carried 
profound questions
that have never been 
adequately answered
not the final Y of a 
man's life of course
that "Y" that they cut 
into the grey flesh
of your upper and lower 
torso during autopsy.
But rather bone chilling, 
teeth chattering
mind bending whys?? 
that haunt the soul like....
"Why was I spared??" 
"Why me when others fell,
never to rise again?" 
"What purpose have 
I yet to achieve??"
the list of my many 
close calls confounds me:

A.-Rickets as an infant
B.-a compound compressed 
skull fracture
chrome bumper induced 
at the tender age of three
C. a tumble from some monkey bars- 
severe concussion- full recovery
D.-holes drilled in my skull, 
exploratory surgery 
for a tumour at ten
E. baseball bat to 
the side of my head 
in the projects-Gang related
F. assaulted by 
a Hell's Angel 
at 14, resulting 
luckily in just a 
busted nose, 
and a bruised ego
G. nearly asphyxiated 
by a  mistakenly 
swallowed jaw breaker 
lodged in my 
throat in 7th grade. 
Saved by an unknown angel
who vanished 
before I recovered
enough to thank 
her after giving me
a hard slap on my back 
when I was inches 
from extinction.
H. a fall through the ice, 
followed by a 
frantic clawing scramble 
from a frigid lake 
to the later 
warmth of an 
angry dad's arms
I. an accidental slit wrist 
from a friend 
using a box cutter 
at work with me, 
blood spurting skyward 
all over the inside 
of his mustang 
as we rushed 
to the hospital.
J. U.S. Marines, 
Vietnam Veteran,
Military police
club riots, 
racially motivated, 
our job invade, 
divide and control
to reinstate peace, 
dodging broken bottles, 
fists and professionals 
trained to kill, 
drunk and in a 
rage to do just that.
K. bullets that 
whistled by me, 
playing a tune 
that wasn't yet 
bugled  as taps for me.
L. a naked 
strangle hold 
that rendered me 
unconscious to 
the brink of being
discharged from life.
M. out of control 
on black ice 
in a Galaxie 500, 
spinning into the path 
of a Greyhound bus, 
the driver and passengers 
faces frozen in terror,
then just as suddenly 
sliding the opposite way, 
as I took out two mailboxes 
and a large chunk of real estate, 
in an unreal last minute save.
O. pneumonia twice, 
once so bad 
in boot camp 
that I almost drowned 
in my own fluids.
P. a near drowning 
due to hypothermia 
when capsized 
in the frigid waters 
of the Connecticut River.
Q. food poisoning twice 
once from a Las Vegas 
Nevada Buffet, 
seven days 
on an N.G. tube, 
after emergency 
exploratory surgery. 
My only recreation 
was being allowed to 
suck On  Lifesaver candy  
and watch the 
colors come back up 
the stomacher tube
as it was pumped 
out continuously.
R. gas leak in a 
marina apartment, 
electrical fire in the 
walls of my parents home, 
my shirt also once 
burst into blue flame 
from chemical fumes 
combusting with a Newport.
S. a heart mummer from birth, 
a left bundle branch blockage, 
and a tiny mitral valve leak...
but my ticker beats on 
in spite of all the 
cigarettes, booze, 
and drugs I abused 
in my ill spent youth.
T. lost in the 
wilderness twice, 
in extreme weather 
U. -brakes failed twice 
coming off mountains,
V. 57 hornet stings 
across my abdomen, 
non allergic thankfully
W. a fully loaded 
logging truck 
slamming into 
the left front 
corner of a Dodge Caravan 
I was a passenger in, 
bouncing us in 
a flight of 150 feet
horizontally spinning 
in slow motion, 
then landing in a 
mountain drainage ditch, 
all of us whip lashed, but alive, 
though the van was demolished.
Every time I emerged from 
each fray with death, 
life took on a new persona, 
enticing me with its sight, 
taste, smell, and touch.
Like a wanton virgin bride, 
emanating heat
and whispering 
only my name, 
I lusted  for my my life 
after each near miss
I re-pursued it 
with intensity, 
seizing each moment, 
savoring any yet 
to be inhaled oxygen, 
praising God and fate, 
and swearing 
off stupidity forever.
I danced, leaped 
and cavorted 
with the nows which 
were then granted me
until I forgot the 
proximity of what
I had almost 
been destroyed by.
Life went on and I 
followed it gratefully
like a wounded 
puppy, ignoring 
the ringing in my ears 
from each close call
as well as any 911 
buttons still unpunished.
Oh, sure there will be  
other close calls
yet to come that's a given
plus many other 
wrong numbers, 
for death is persistent.
He's a smooth operator 
who will connect 
with me eventually, 
and who'll be calling collect
and then I'll pay the toll.
I'll hear that 
strange white noise
and know that I am 
about to be cut off
as I at long last experience
eternal silence, 
forever disconnected 
from the lifelines 
we all are hooked up to.
but for now.................
there's a song I want to share
a love I want to encourage
a picture still unpainted
some clays to mold
some poems to pen
and summer is waiting 
to sizzle my sweat
as I am cooled by 
those Jumbo Margaritas.
Plus my precious son 
who needs his Daddy
and a whole lot of 
living to savor!

So would YOU mind 
taking the next close call??
please??? and if it's for me
just tell 'em I'm stepping 
out for a while,
and if it's for you,
hang up and run like hell!!

© 2009 Matthew Frederick Blowers III


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