Friday, September 28, 2012

COPD

"Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) is one of the most common lung diseases. It makes it difficult to breathe. There are two main forms of COPD: Chronic bronchitis, which involves a long-term cough with mucus ..."
I have been crippled with asthmatic conditions since my swim in the polluted Gulf of Mexico (fuck you BP all those pop up ads on The Onion will not redeem you motherfuckers. May all your children drown in refined oil) and my wrists are broken from fighting off the West Nile infected mosquitoes. I sleep in my mosquito net but it's 200 degrees now and the sweat fills my ear like syrup on pancakes giving me infections and deliberate Blepheritus and Halitosis of the mind.
I can not tolerate the cigarette smoking of these Texan chimneys. It's like a slap in the face when one hangs on my shoulder with a cigarette dangling from his lips and he breathes fumes and coughs a hacking wheeze into my mouth. "Do ya'll even know what the fuck ya doin?"
I AM DYING. I CAN NOT BREATHE. STEP AWAY FROM ME. I WANT TO LIVE IN THE DESERT WITH LIZARDS. SHAMAN DREAMS MOCK MY DELIVERANCE.
So I cough and grope my weary path through a field of shattered dreams. A young man is looking for someone to drive him from Austin to Ecuador. I might be that person as soon as I get an oil pan gasket for my 43 year old van and a replacement hip for my sagging ass. We will walk through the cactus patch of my sadness into the swamps of Panama, trailing the rags of neck fat and over-indulged fried chicken buffets into the leech's lair and the blood sucking frog's domain.
I won't trade frogs for snakes because they are both best left out of the financial transactions of men trading in church. Wells Fargo owns 1 trillion in flawed mortgages. BOA, the owners of the beach houses who hunted me in the night with pitchforks and anger against homeless invaders, the fraud bank that offered me a mortgage for $800,000 on an income of $30K did not disclose several hundred million in losses that the corrupt federal reserve swindled from pension funds of veterans and chicken clerks. The flakes of the national dandruff make waves in the glory of the gaps in our teeth. West Nile is the African guilt finding its way into our blood with COPD hacking in our rasping lungs. Beware of the slippery faces of cereal box Politicians and spin doctors who graduate with a master's degree in political gibberish and financial flim flam. We trade currency and abandon ethics and geometry while the Arctic Wolf howls in fear. Shell oil trucks Eskimo hearts into their fire to burn caribou hides on frigid nights.
Again, if Plan A is a collision course with global meltdown, if the forests and streams are monopoly properties to be traded and ripped up in childhood fury, THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS IMPORTANT? WHAT CAN BE SALVAGED? There can be no standard in a land of apes eating panda cubs. This whole wheat Jesus country designed around slaves and trafficked lies pronounces nuclear Zionism over Iran while rivers in Georgia are polluted by Big Red soft drink urine from the Honey Boo Boo bladder so the fish inflame the prostate of the nation. I'm coughing in hysteria and sadness, my spine is broken and my knees feel like an elephant has been riding bareback on my graying neck flaps. Tears of sorrow and denial rain down through the wood stove pipe that has rusted like the joints of my soul.
How can we retain a slice of this insanity? How can the CIA agents who monitor my blog sleep at night knowing they enable and abet the slaughter of wolf pups in Wyoming? When did group think replace the land of the free and the home of brave? My rhetorical questions find relief in the 8 ball politics of "Ask Again In 4 Years" or "It might be so" the Clinton monarchy and the Bush monopoly drives wolf ethics deeper underground. Our soap on a rope morality has washed down the drain of the inner city.
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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.