Calling Card

I’m the subject of a study; it was rolled out after contracting HIV.

Legitimately, the medical field studies every being I come into contact with, and they test my blood by occasionally throwing vaccines of various types. This is basic protocol in order to see what antibodies I can take and what makes me sick. I have made the mistake of blaming the research for my psycho-somatic condition, and not being able to trust them with my life or my mind.
While I realize that my behavior is not necessarily uniform with the rest of society, this is where I thrive and stand up for myself. I’ve been tested by doctors that leave a bad taste in my mouth and so I’m sorry if they take this personally when I blame them for a study gone wrong.
Back in the day they were treating queers with cures for sexually transmitted diseases when they accidentally infected millions with the most deadly disease known to man, the HIV strain I received is mark 3 or mark 4,

Yes, I’ve been marked before.
And the medication I take left a few more.
The drug companies listened to my request to make the anti-retro-viral horse pills less toxic, and would you look at me know, I’m full on agnostic.

Pull the rope taught and I’ll balance it out, but not at the drop off a hat, shhh you could hear a pin drop there.

This is within the realm of terrible possibilities that man is capable of when he is subjugated by the probability of fear.

He bows down before an empire of….shit… Exactly what?

So I infiltrate.

I accept my fate just long enough to betray these forces of evil.

I can’t stop loving for what’s right.

No ands ifs or buts, this double-blind study is taking its time to stop wearing off.

Rub me down with sage information now cause I’m done battling demons.

We should not have to fear our subconscious, I wear a badge of accomplishment as I somehow knocked em off before they clocked my time.

I’m sorry for being so rowdy.

This study of my body of work is paid off by the cops that don’t work for shit but I said enough is enough money to find out that the game is fixed in this


I’m moving on to the




oh hey wait this octave skipped the fourth to hit the Drum roll in time

to hit myself with the o’shit.

I’m higher now; dimensional upgrade,

which way now?

Activated by some kind of brain wave on the Power House that systematically repressed us with some positively violent ways for teaching these Psychopaths to stop testing me.

I know this is a pipe-dream, but hot damn now they line-up to take shots at me.

They keep finding ways to tell us how to learn yet this is not exactly ergonomically sound.

There goes the chime in, I’m done speed reading just to regurgitate and forget the meaning.

I can’t fake it till I make it so I’m going to learn it till I earn it.

Sorry mister professor, you did well, but leave it to an amateur to experience your flaws to tell you what’s wrong.

I’m relieving you right?

Passion is the horsepower that drives, and I’ve got a bio-luminescent psycho-logical machine steering me this time.

We are learning how to clean up this mess you left us,

looks like there’s a clean up on aisle 3 and 4,

son of a bitch

I’ve got to clean up this whole store.

Do you want to see how I mop the floor with your insecure mind boggling scheme?

Uncle Sam wanted me to say:

We’re done here, I’ll take it from here.

Good luck with your retirement baby boomers

Is this what they mean by social security?

I’m glad to help the environment,

I’m not afraid of these Sparks flying cause I’m not running on gasoline,

no my energy is clean.

They tried to torch down the church just for sport,

but I don’t worship false idols,

so i quit showing up for work;

and I started doing my job,

call me a match-maid in heaven,

I’ll strike out the strychnine in the vaccines cause there’s no rats here on this barge, while you’re at it take the bleach out of the crisper cause its cold to try to erase the genes of the Africans who recieved the same treatment.

I’m not done cleaning up after slobs,

I’ll do the dishes next,

followed by the laundry,

but give me some time to sort

the recycling from the compost and

the trash from the treasure cause fucking hell,

you’ll burn rubber on the getaway car,

all the while forgetting you lost that conflict back in ‘nam and won’t admit that you sold souls for the great lie that the war was going to be over in a matter of time.

We won’t be done for a while,

I’ll teach the time management classes that reverse your motivation to make me look bad,

You’re acting like you’re stuck in molasses,

But this honey wine I’m sipping is richer than than your oil drum line,

Another war fought for another hot commodity that started in an opium den and poppy fields that were sacred until they showed how addicted this country is to numbing a sickening feeling of killing pain with even more lost souls,

you think you’re slick but I’m slicker and you’re slipping in your own spit-ups,

cause you can’t believe I found a way to feed your own bullshit back to you.

Y’all might think you’re gonna get richer by fossilizing your bone dry shit kicker’s that you traded for boots.

Your cowboy ways are sadder than a damned lone star when y’all left a trail of fears in your wake, but hey I hear there is tons of oil down there what is the middle eastern war really about?

I’m restoring power to the locals and the native and the indiginous people here, if you’re from out of town, we’ll treat ya like neighbors, so don’t worry about the tyrants that control the decisions of our country.

There’s a difference between pride and shade but if you’re in the Lion’s den, it’s a fine line between survival of the fittest and revival of the heart of gold.

Go kick rocks next time cause It seems aliens love this land more than we do.

So let’s work together with them and acknowledge our faults before our tectonic plates disagree. We almost woke the beast under the crusty eyelid, that beast is still sleeping at the gold capped pyramid, and if Yellowstone erupts, we won’t be able to count on old faithful.

That potential energy that I get from frustration of all this corruption; is the stress that is free but it’s too complicated for the third dimension and did I mention it’s stored in the fifth so I could recharge anytime, I’m outside the lines.

Did I cross you?

I’m sorry Good God, my spirit is arrested by some man behind the curtain.

Call the show off, I’m not showing off

I’m just representing my peers and now that I have no fear, my love of this earth is even more energetic than before, and maybe this peaceful moment will teach us that there’s no profits in war, just debt in the form of souls that were supposed to be born.

I’m not tired anymore, I’m not going back to sleep either.

I’ve aced your test, now give me some sharp feedback.

I’m a subject and I object to this disorganized state of demise.

This is not us, some dumbed down robot degraded me and false flagged me down for remembering a time before the confusion of separation severed the line-in auxiliary, umbilical chord that connected us to mother Gaia,

We couldn’t hear her for so long that I initiated my own dream machine to take down these evil things that monetize how long it takes to send a message back to her.

I’ve learned how to exponentially restore the love in our chest, starting with the atom on the eve of realizing they never should have split.

The only precious metals that matter are the trace minerals that run through our bloodstream, and if it’s up to me, I’d rather love the Mark of the beast than fear the blood in your veins cause the atomic weight is the same as mine.

 P.M. Kohlwey