Hi I’m KaliKat – Welcome to my life in poems - 8

To Smoke or not to Smoke…

Well it’s time to shake it up a bit – As I’ve mentioned in previous posts, not all I did in past years was above board – my main vice - I dabbled a little in what some like to call “self-medicating” I prefer to just call it “getting stoned”.

Life, situations, kids, husbands and other things… it all got a little hard to deal with so weed became my friend.

I was a stoner for many many years, a fully functioning stoner I might add. My kids never went without because of weed, they always had a roof over their head, and they were fed, clothed, and very much loved. They attended sporting functions and other activities and were well socialised children. I had a responsible job and I managed to run our farm pretty much single handedly.

To save a little money I thought it might be good to do a little home gardening – everything was going really well, I mean REALLY well. I’d learnt some great tips for growing over the years and this particular year was a bumper crop… seem our local law enforcement thought differently.

I hope you enjoy a blow by blow description of what happened at my farm early one April morning in 1994.

Busted

The-birds were all chirping up in the trees,
The dog had been snoozing, just as sound as you please.
I was sitting down quietly watching TV,
My baby was sleeping right next to me
That Monday was crisp but as clear as a bell,
Then a knock at the door and out broke all hell.
Eight men in my lounge room and one woman too,
Low and behold it was our boys in blue.
They stormed through the house, sat me down in a chair,
Shoved a warrant in my face and said why they were there.
"We have reason to believe you have cannabis here"
Just then it hit me my ultimate fear.
They're going to take all my dope plants away,
That I'd loved and I'd nurtured day after day.
Those plants were my babies, I'd raised them from seed,
I'd cared for and saw to their every need.
Then off to the garden we all had to walk,
Me, and the dogs, and all nine head of pork.
There were my babies all catching the sun,
How could they do what was about to be done.
Each time they tore one up from its hole,
Felt like they were tearing out parts of my soul.
"Well back to the house now the gardens all clear",
"Let’s find all the goodies you’ve got stashed in here".
They found bags of leaf, and my scales as well,
Some bags full of seeds, there was too many to tell.
They then took my mouli, the herb chopping type,
Then the greatest of sins, the pigs took my pipe.
And what had you planned for all this stuff my dear?
"Well - I had planned to be stoned for the rest of the year!"
"So we've put an end to your sinister game?"
"Yes! - Thanks to the arsehole, who gave you our name!”
Well off to the station we all had to trot,
"You’re going to be charged for your cannabis plot!"
It’s illegal to grow plants, to smoke them or sell,
Will we ever be free from this political hell?

The aftermath of this day was pretty much spending the next 6 to 8 hours at the police station being “processed” and then being allowed to return to a house that had been turned upside down.

On the upside, I had some really cool friends that were at home waiting for me with a new pipe, freshly mulled weed and shoulder for me to cry on as I mourned the loss of my beautiful crop.

Needless to say, nothing really changed aside from not having to tend my plants anymore – I still smoked, but I never grew dope again because I didn’t want my kids to have to go through the “my parents got busted” thing again.

I hope you enjoyed it...

Next post we might take a walk through dark side of my life….

Cheers
KaliKat