Notice of absence from Tristan Robert Lange
🖤🙏 Away for a few days. See you on the other side. In the meantime, Read, Rise, Realize...and write! 🕯️🐦⬛
🖤🙏 Away for a few days. See you on the other side. In the meantime, Read, Rise, Realize...and write! 🕯️🐦⬛
Sweet, precious Jesus, life has been so sweet;
We thank our dear Lord for all the sweet meat.
Can someone please pass the plate of turkey—
Sweet, precious Jesus, this looks really sweet—
Yes, that’s it...and the rutebeagas too!
Now, for real, it is time for that gravy—
Can someone please pass more of the turkey—
Sweet, precious Jesus, nothing’s been more sweet;
I’ll skip the green bean casserole, thank you.
Wait, that’s it? I said rutebeagas too!
Now, again, it’s high time for that gravy—
Sweet, baby Jesus, nothing tastes more sweet;
Can someone please pass that dang ol’ turkey?
Skip that creamed green bean casserole, thank you.
White, like the breast, makes right. Keep the dark out.
What the hell? I said rutebeagas too!
For God’s sake, it’s time for that damn gravy—
Can someone please pass that effing turkey?
Mary birthed Jesus! Nothing cooks more sweet;
Skip that creamed green bean yuckerole, dammit!
Who let immigrants in here, anyhow?
White, like the breast, the best. Keep the dark out.
What the fuck?! The rutebeagas too, jerk!
For Christ’s sake, it’s time for that white gravy—
Can someone pass that whole forking turkey?
Skip that shit-green bean yuckerole, dammit!
They all killed Jesus! Nothing smells more sweet.
We give our thanks to our great president.
Who will now deport immigrants out for good.
What the fuck?! The rutebeagas, asshat!
White Christ crucified! It’s time for that gravy—
Will someone pass that white forking turkey?
You can shit green bean yuckerole, dammit!
Forget that Jesus! Nothing feels more sweet;
Please bless us dear lord! We’ve got the sweet meat.
Poet’s Note:
Written in my original Revelatory Cascade form. A satire of Thanksgiving’s sanctimony — a holiday built on stolen land, selective gratitude, and the same xenophobia people pretend they’ve risen above.
© 2025 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, November 27, 2025.
Tittu
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: November 27th, 2025 06:47
- Comment from author about the poem: Comment from author about the poem: I’m now published in an anthology featuring authors from across the Poconos, PA. All proceeds benefit the Pocono Liars Club — a collective of authors and editors dedicated to supporting and mentoring local writers. Available in paperback and Kindle, please consider purchasing one and supporting a great cause. https://a.co/d/58uxM69
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: rebellion_in_sanity, Friendship
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Comments7
A great satire indeed on a day of satire but then the irony is that it has always been this way caveman George stole his cave (and probably wife) from caveman Frank. He didn't like him anyway he was a Neandertal. Native American Artic Ice just slid over the straights, straight into his neighbors unfenced land and his family fought over property rights ever since. (Not that they had any deed but they wanted hunting rights) Pilgrim Joe moved next door and gradually slid his property line closer and closer to his native friend. When he objected he bought him out with a bag of beads and a better gun. Oh well it wasn't too hard after he killed most of the family off with his communicable disease. He wasn't just a pinko but actually red so he had to go. Mexicans don't count they are the wrong color too. And today Uncle Sam can take the land to put in a highway or whatever and send you back to where ever your great grandad was from ( not sure which great grandad though) regardless you have to go. A fun read Happy Thanksgiving
Soren… you spun the whole history right back at the poem… theft, borders, disease, “ownership”…the real American holiday liturgy. Thoroughly appreciate he satire in your comment, my friend! Truth is truth! Thank you for the read and engagement, as always. Much appreciated! Now, pass the bird, please! 🤣. 🐕🧱🌹🙏
Most welcome Tristan I pass the bird daily every time I'm on the road
LOL! There we go! The best way to do it! I grew up in Northern Jersey after all! 🤣
I have read somewhere that an authentic (please note the absence of the word good) conveys the mood partially through the way language is used. I could have looked up an example, but being lazy I didn't. The concept seemed too esoteric for my simple taste. Yet here I am reading your poem and noticing how the nature of expression changes. I feel now I understand. I won't try to diminish the impact of the poem with my stock words like 'wonderful',, 'excellent' etc. A FAVE
I love that you felt the expression changing under your feet… that’s exactly how the satire works. Mood in the language, turn by turn, until it exposes the truth. Your read was sharp and generous. Much appreciated, dear friend. 🐕🧱🌹🙏
Brilliant way of writing, my dear friend. Happy Thanksgiving, you brought out the true meaning, you made me laugh. Your poem revolves around the juxtaposition of traditional American Thanksgiving rituals with themes of nationalism, xenophobia, and a critique of societal values. which the poet includes a Thanksgiving dinner filled with food and gratitude, but beneath this surface, there are layers of hostility towards immigrants and a celebration of a narrow, exclusionary vision of American identity. The repeated references to specific foods, particularly turkey and rutabagas, serve as a metaphor for what is deemed acceptable or desirable in this vision.👍❤️😂
Friendship… your read caught the full tension of it… the absurdity, the critique, the way the table becomes a mirror for bigger truths. That’s the conversation I hope each satire sparks. Much appreciated, my dear friend! 🐕🧱🌹🙏
From the sublime to the...... can't finish that, cos a glugger gate-crashed your celebration! lol.
LOL! Go figure! He's asking for the Spinach to be, well, creamed of course! 🤮 🤣
Why?! Don't answer that! lol.
🤐
The Author's Note says it all! And the poem just takes the breath away, all we like sheep have gone astray. It actually brings me back to an old rhyme I made on an identical state of affairs. One that we clearly have not learned as it has oft been said history repeating itself. 🕊️🙏
Rik…you and I both circle these themes…faith, failure, and fractured humanity…a poetic/spiritual kinship we share, imho. Much appreciated, my friend! 🐕🧱🌹🙏
Now here's a thing - Old MacPopeye had a farm, EIEIO.... with a glug-glug here, and a glug-glug there..... get that brolly out! lol. Why a brolly? Don't answer that!
I knew there was always something that creeped me out about that song! The creamed spinach! 🤮
Never understood why Turkeys voted for Thanksgiving in the first place.
I always liked the way the white man stole lands off the indignities.
Liked the way they pretended they were doing them a favour, making life better for them.
Now that we've raped all their lands, it only seems right that we send them all back to their lands.
Pass the gravy, Trumpy our lord is about to speak.
💯 Exactly! Paul, you went straight for the jugular here…no sugar, no soft edges. The satire is sharp because the truth is sharp, and you certainly didn't miss that, but did so well adding to it! 🤣 Cheers, mate!🔥🦃🇺🇸🙏
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