The Placebo Effect


The Placebo Effect

It all seemed so real to me.
The cure, I mean.
I listened and listened,
Until, I could conceive
of the concepts,
that were foreign to my psyche.

This led to a certain belief,
some called it magical thinking.
I was not aware of the consequence,
that sneaks in like a thief
or maybe, I just didn’t want to admit it.

I was more interested in seeing the benefit.
That never came.
You might say that we were all a bit insane.

But, I systematically
entangled myself
and in every way that I could
to make it to that promised land.

A warm smile greeted us at the front door.
While our assets were being hauled
discreetly out the back
out of sight
and they thought, out of mind.

A gregarious man led us all down
the garden path, unawares.
And what an adventure it was.

Hands reached out to me
as we entered a gate.
Decorated with carvings
And precious stones.
I held on tight.

It was mesmerizing
almost tantalizing
knowing that we’d reach the holy waters soon.
To cleanse us from our thoughts
and to rob us of our being.

We were cleansed.
Or were we simply
being anesthetized ?

We saw a classic case
of polarization
from the masses.
In fact, we lived it
with no questions asked.

Yet again, we had to shake it off
and think for ourselves.
Realizing this was not for us.
It was after all
The Placebo Effect.

© Janet P. Caldwell – October 28, 2014

Author’s Note: Take from this what you will. In the end, I do hope it raises questions and that you find your own answers.




Listen to the laughter
of the children playing
in the near winter’s cold.

Listen to the trees clapping
Even as they lose their leaves
they do not fear, no.

Listen to the wind howl
And beat against them.
They neither shiver
nor scowl.

I listen to mine own heartbeat.
The breaths . . .
which I in and exhale too.

And I am thankful
for the here and now.
I am grateful.


(c) Janet P. Caldwell – October, 2014

Pic: No copyright Infringement Intended

Courage Love, Courage

clc albert

Courage Love, Courage

Finding my bliss
was not an easy
path, while clutching
baggage, with knuckles
bleeding, I nearly missed.

And it was
of no consequence
to keep . . .
while weighing me down
burdening me on life’s trip.

I was not willing to see.

Though, I fought and kicked
against my own truth
adopting yours
oh what a mess . . .

what a melee
this did bring.

The parting of your lips
with honeyed words dripping
were deliciously teasing
but did finally sting.

On a mission now
subsequent searching
eating the watermelon
while spitting out
sundry seeds.

Taking my time
as I dismissed
your lies
and what you said
was expected of me.

A voice inside said
“Surrender now
Beloved one
the path is easy.”

I laid down my life.
And my freedom
no longer hidden

was unveiled to me.

I AM . . .
transformed and armed
with love

with rushing rivers
doused in wisdom and trust
that have lived for aeons
and have always
resided inside of me.

Resurrected now . . .
I picked up my mat
and walked
on my own two feet.

I picked up, me.

The me . . .
that has always been
had I spit out the seeds

walked my own path
and been willing to see.

Courage Love, Courage.

(c) Janet P. Caldwell ~ September 24, 2014


Civility ?


Civility ?

I am sending love and peace
to all of my universal
brothers and sisters
in harms way.

It’s everywhere, isn’t it ?

I almost laugh
when I hear of civil war.
What the hell is civil about that ?
Such a shame
to live and die this way.

It may not be a gun
pointed to our brains
but brainwashing our youth
what’s the difference ?

It’s all the same.

There are too many misunderstandings
our / their . . . intentions
due to a lack of communication
tribal customs that seem foreign
are being stamped out
until nary a soul is left.

The people are experiencing hatred
and so many lives lost . . .
ignorance is king
and blood loss his queen.

Simply living, day to day
stop walking around in a trance
please, please give peace a chance.

Who says that we all have to be alike
in our walk to the same place ?
When no one is talking
or trying to understand
things get severely lost
totally . . . out of hand.

Let us shout and be heard
vote, get involved
in your neighborhood.

Teach our children to love
and to accept apologies
never heard.

I for one do apologize
for the ignorance
of my ancestors
and please remember

I was not there.

(c) Janet P. Caldwell – September 1st, 2014

Papa’s Little Crow


Papa’s Little Crow

A Child arrived today
to the highly decorated
and indoctrinated
Expectant parents
of Mary & Jim Crow.

The couple were oh so excited
singing praises to the father of their linen – esque Flags
with rejoicing and relishing the cause
they sang loud and proud
because the fruit of their loins
that had easily spilled
and merged nine months ago
could and did produce
This Wonder, this Fairest One of All.

He would become and be known as Master Jack to many.
And for awhile . . .
Little Jackie to his Momma and Papa
and MJ for short . . .
but only to a select group.

These are but a few
names and titles
selected and granted
to Jack, due him by birthright.

Mary & Jim were looking back at that night
when they had exploded abundantly
and well – nigh profusely
and not for the love expressed
or the sheer pleasure of touch

because DUTY had called them
to march and march
to a strange but familial drum
that if left unnoticed
would continually pound
ba-ba, ba-ba, ba-ba, ba-ba bum
so like programmed sheeple-ish units
they answered the bleating calls.

Yes, Duty called
All of their kind
to reproduce killer robots
disguised as humans
seeking targets
to destroy any and all
that were not like them

you know what it’s about . . .
simply not their kind.

So like good soldiers on a mission
they too, would bring forth
a fair and just warrior
with honor bound fidelity
to protect and serve ‘whose-manity’?

Years later, there came the secret name
given by one, with barely a hushed whisper
and sworn in secrecy
decreed in bloods code,
now that he was officially
in this “Society of Thugs”.

“Congratulations and Welcome Big Jack to The Academy”
said the officer, with the Golden Ropes
where the only mixing of colors, was that vast
array of ribbons covering his chest
attached to a Uniform that reeked Superior
was a shiny and shifty
yet shimmering
gilded badge.

Mary & Jim Crow, without question
were diligent in the education
and grooming of their
blonde hair, blue eyed son . . .
welcome to the asylum.

Drum Roll please . . .
Introducing, First in his Class
Officer Jack Crow.

A product of the “now” that was “then”.

(c) Janet P. Caldwell – August, 2014