Neat conditions for infants—
Overcrowded and rotting—
Threnody fills a mother’s throat.
Good people busy “doing good”
Othering the weak and vulnerable.
Offenders find victims offensive—
Don’t you believe in spectres, too?
Father’s suicide, fear her prayer—
Official words will spread the scare.
Repression religicizing—no repair.
Secure her other daughter!
A witch’s bitch be guilty too.
Raggamuffin rejection by reprobates.
Assembly of the apostates—showtime—
How many more are there?
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, May 10, 2026.
Tittu
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: May 10th, 2026 08:56
- Comment from author about the poem: An acrostic Scorched Sunday poem. Part of my Scorched Strays collection. Salem, Massachusetts, 1692.
- Category: Religion
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Teddy.15, Salvia.S
- In collections: Scorched Strays.
Offline)
Comments6
A terrible time of distorted beliefs but when was it not. Well written Tristan it leaves feelings of confusion and false beliefs leading to judgements and tragedy. Well written my friend
Soren, I appreciate this deeply, my friend. The more I read history, the harder it becomes not to see echoes of these moments repeating in different forms and different eras. Human beings can convince themselves of terrible things when fear takes the wheel. Thank you again, my friend. 🌫️🖤🙏🔥
You are most welcome. People always need a scapegoat
The worst is yet to come, if you can believe it.
Sadly…I can believe it. That’s part of why Salem still feels relevant to me. The names and clothing change, but fear, suspicion, and righteous certainty have a way of surviving every century. Grateful for you reading this one, my friend. 🌫️🖤🙏🔥
Well you and I were certainly born in the same era, I haven't heard the word raggamuffin for years! 🌹
Hahaha, Teddy…honestly, the second that word entered my brain, it absolutely demanded to stay. Some words are just too wonderfully textured to let die off completely. 🌒🖤🙏🥀
Agreed! 🤣 🌹
We have it around March in the UK.
Hahaha, Orchi…right! Every year I forget the UK beats us to Mother’s Day by a couple months. Meanwhile Popeye has apparently declared a permanent international Mother’s Day glug festival requiring continuous ceremonial spinach-wine toasting across all nations. As one does. 🍷🤣🐶🌒🖤🙏🥀
Here we are remiss toward- the widowed, the orphaned and the othered.... that just won't do walking on a deliberate unentangled carpeted path... makes the blood boil. Smash it hard, Tittu!🙏🕊️
Thank you, my dear friend. Exactly. Let the idols be smashed...all of them...even any I’ve unwittingly made up. I think what angers me most is how often cruelty hides behind respectability, order, or even the language of “doing good.” Salem may be historical, but the pattern never fully disappears. Grateful for your thoughtful read, Arqios. 🌒🖤🙏🥀
Ah yes, the retractable walls of stewardship and order and accountability, in which the little foxes prefer to hide...so as to be 'seen' as "doing good" kind of like the good Samaritan parable. 🕊️🙏
Speaks so much truth Tristan. I think it’s always been this way; rose colored glasses though tend to slip a little later in one’s life at times. Well written Tristan
Sharon, thank you deeply for this. I think that gradual slipping of the “rose colored glasses” is exactly part of what makes historical reflection so unsettling. We want to believe humanity has outgrown these patterns, but fear, scapegoating, and moral hysteria still surface far too easily. Really appreciate your thoughtful words, my friend. 🌒🖤🙏🥀
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