Intoxicated by the mystical marijuana plants,
rising from the heart of the earth,
so resinous on the inhaled joint.
Our DNA slowly turned to THC.
Like seed turning to flower,
On the fertile crescents of the Eel River, where we grew our first sinsemilla,
When totem salmon still spawned
Along the deep pools and gravel beds.
Yes, Those terraced Babylonian pot gardens of olden times,
Nourished by mountain springs.
How endearing were the Magical green tree frogs clinging to the swaying colas in September?
Cannabis farmers became rich, powerful,
as if the mighty bud made them immortal,
as if the outside world was forever locked out.
Upon the curtained land were the green matrixes,
blowing wind wafting dreamily with musky aromas.
The scents both skunky and fruity,
the flavors and strains unending.
All that easy money,
Everybody said,
All those 100-dollar bills.
A new commerce emerged in those chanticleer hills,
A plant that the richest and poorest in the cities revered.
Alas, it was a monoculture,
A lifestyle bought and paid for by the precious cannabis nuggets,
Remember when an ounce of herb was worth more than gold?
Then the Great Hellfire came via Huey Combat Helicopters raiding homesteads long sequestered into the green verdure.
Some say it was the fault of Green Rush hooligans coming next who breached the tipping point of decency and goodwill in those deep valleys and sequestered mountains.
When the end came, no one was prepared
Suddenly the pristine watersheds were
tainted with diesel dope,
and a 50 year back-to-the-land culture succumbed to the cartel called legalization
Thus, the Age of Anthropocene was thrust upon us:
Soon the Day-Star goddess became the Black Death of the forest.
A once sustainable Eden burned to piles of char by the carpetbaggers.
Yet Mom and Pop still search through the rubble,
For remnants and memories,
Of a world no more.
Pity our land once ruled by Gaia’s hidden world of Redwood Tree corridors, mighty Rivers, and the immense blue Pacific watching over it all.
Our bright star has lost its luminescence.
10,000 hours in the burning sun learning to grow the best Kush,
Raising our children in the emerald elysian—
A lucid cannabis dream deferred.
Mom and Pop watched in horror as the sweet exhaled homegrown smoke disappeared into the gossamer mist,
On the last day of living free in the Green Idyll.
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