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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Death's Messengers by Rick Rucker Death's messengers came for me today, I eluded them, though, I crawled away. Seeing just the smallest chance, I sneaked into an ambulance. I thought that it would surely fail, That I'd soon be cold, and pale. Noting that my blood did leak, My future prospects seemed rather bleak. One second, an iron horse riding, And the next, my suit of leather sliding, Down the road, at times bouncing, My feeling of luck taking a trouncing. I couldn't speak, my breath was leaving, I knew my wife would soon be grieving, I thought myself quite brave, But I heard a medic say “Grave,” Where I knew I soon would be, On a hill, under a tree, Thinking about the riding fraternity, A biker through eternity. Suddenly I felt a pain, A searing blue flash went 'cross my brain, Something just wasn't right, Don't people say to “Go to the light?” The only light that I could see, Was red, and on a CHP, Cruiser that was straight ahead, Probably thinking I was dead. Could it be that I would live? How much fluid can one give, And unfailingly survive, Or , possibly even thrive? I had to get into a hospital bed, Before “THEY” knew I wasn't dead! How fast can a medic go by rights? Use the siren and the lights! I wasn't feeling too nice, But we got there, in a thrice. Many doctors rushed me in, Just one pain, from toes to chin. To ease it, they gave me juice, Soon, I began to feel quite loose. Knowing that this dulled pain's talon, I asked, “Could I take some home, a gallon?” Seeing me under the weather, The doctors all gathered together. Discussing all the effects most tragic, The witch doctors began to work their magic. Soon enough, I knew I'd live, I thought to take the time to give, To The One that let me stay, Above the ground another day! I don't think about it much, There's little pain to the touch. The only legacy I carry, Past cemeteries I do not tarry, I haul as fast as I can go, If I go a little too slow, Death's messengers might see, The one that got away-that's me!
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