Samarian Effect
By Glenn Currier

There are some who sparkle and glitter
so full of thought and creative power
they’re like human transmitters
their minds and eyes seem to flower
and being close to them seems to bring
you zest and vigor, to a peppy place
wanting to search for the next thing,
to discover a quiet thoughtful space
within to water and cultivate
the seed of your own creative force
that something in you that’s great,
so you too will be a fruitful source.

At a loss for inspiration
Creativity crippled
Drained of motivation
Passion paralyzed
Spiraling depression the only thing thriving.
Still and quiet, the only thing she has the energy to move is pen to paper as she awakens muscles she didn’t realise she forgot she had. She drowned herself unknowingly.

The nights are mine
Nothing can change that
Peace, quiet and serenity
I’m alive, I can breathe
I can see clearly because
the darkness comes and the light fades.

The nights are mine,
And I never feel better
While you sleep, I live to the fullest
I smile, I laugh, I create, I learn
After a long day, I can finally relax.
Not be judged. Just be. Be me.

The nights are mine
Nobody owns me,
I’m by myself,
Running my own show,
Just letting my creativity flow,
And my intellect grow.

Write what you know
Paint what you see
Yourself is much more int’resting
Than whoever you pretend to be

Sing what you hear
Move how you must
Look not to other’s favour
In yourself you may trust

Create and inspire
Astound and amuse
Yourself is an instrument
Go ahead - play what you choose!

I try to flow fast and loose
But my words fall flat and obtuse
Because trying is the opposite of flying
And flowing is the art of simply going
A lack of effort is the only way
To truly express what you want to say
To tap into inspiration
To channel divination
To experience true creation

You can try regularity
Love, hate, hilarity
Equality or disparity
Fortitude or fragility
But I know the final mystery
Will no doubt be creativity

Where do these words come from
And where do they go
It may sound dumb to some
But **** I want to know

Every perfect rhyme and clever line
That sweet melody that sounds divine
And every drop of cosmic knowledge
Written by a poet locked inside a cottage
Left alone with a troubled mind and no clear plan
Tapping into something we may never understand