BY ED MURRIETA

April is officially National Poetry Month. Every day is unofficially national cannabis day. In that spirit, here’s one of my favorite cannabis poems, written by Sacramento poet and cannabis enthusiast Gene Black, who died in 1993.

News from the Drug War
By Gene Black

There’s a black eye tonight in the Emerald Triangle.
California’s largest cash crop is hunted for sport.
The task force looks on while the bride screams.
and the grooms blood soaks into the living room carpet.

DEA says somebody misread the infrared.
AP doesn’t mention if they killed the dogs this time.
The county sheriff blames a false tip.
Friends of the deceased blame trigger-happy terrorists.

The warrant reads: Felonious following in the footsteps
of the Founding Fathers. Suspicious of gardening.

Meanwhile, billions spent on the War on Drugs.
The price of reefer skyrockets like the national debt.
A burst of tracers tell you happy CAMPers are at your door.

In other developments, loggers jobs are cut
until ancient forests restore themselves.
Maxxam Timber executive says this is only temporary
well under half a millennium.

Up next: Roll up the inquisition.
Roll it off the corpus of common law.
Seizure without conviction is piracy.
Execution without trail is murder.

This is your planet sponsored by hemp:
Cooler.
Greener.
Better clothed.
Better fed.
Sane.