I heart Cannabis like
Lucy loved Ricky, like
Lithium loves mines and hot springs,
Like those little laughs that cheer when
Life kicks you down.
It’s my medicine.
See, this momma plant, Mother who wears many names,
Mary Ann, Mary Jonas, Mary Weaver, Mary Jane,
Lovely Lady–she saved my life with contemplation and
Re-creation–she cut the cords
Of a lethal addiction and
Got me closer to Free.
The first time we met, I smoked out of a homemade pipe,
Baby food jars with copper pipe plating,
And, my gods, that lovely Indian Boy
Stole my heart like the Matchbox at first flame, but
The Medicine Man was not kind when he took my cherry.
I cried because I did not want to see the Northern Lights
As they were–the smoke cleared too much
Out of the way.
The second time we met,
I smoked an aluminum can high,
And visited Nebulas on my Pocket
Rocket to purchase Purple Passion from
A Righteous, Burning Bush.
And I saw that night skies only creep
Slow down here on the surface,
But that High, and with the right velocity,
I could stay with the stars for days.
Starstriding leads me to balancing,
Shiva Shanti squirming as I
Re-calculate my trajectory.
I proclaim it from the mountains for the Mother.
This plant is SACRED,
I proclaim it to the sea from my Yellow Submarine.
This plant is HOLY.
I proclaim it to the world so the Power Plant
Can cover all of creation in a Purple Haze…
This plant, well, it’s nice.
Because when I poke the smot
I wear perception like a talisman
Round my neck like it was made from
Jamacian, Early, and Silver Pearls.
Yeah. I don’t just heart Cannabis–
My Green Goddess,
My Ganja Guru,
My Cross-dressing,
Hedonistic Dreamtime Empress
Who is actually a man,
If I could say it,
Maybe I can say it,
Oh my God. I can say it.
Cannabis, I love you!
