Notice of absence from Tristan Robert Lange
Life is full of seasons. This is a season of transition for me, where I will be moving with my family to a new location. As such, with much logistics to consider, I am doing my best to keep up. Please know if I accidentally don't respond, it is not because I am ghosting or becoming distant. Once things settle after the move, I am sure life will return to some normalcy. In the meantime, and always:
Read 👓, Write ✍️, Rise 🌅, Realize 🤯.
Tristan 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Life is full of seasons. This is a season of transition for me, where I will be moving with my family to a new location. As such, with much logistics to consider, I am doing my best to keep up. Please know if I accidentally don't respond, it is not because I am ghosting or becoming distant. Once things settle after the move, I am sure life will return to some normalcy. In the meantime, and always:
Read 👓, Write ✍️, Rise 🌅, Realize 🤯.
Tristan 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Jesus still guides—
Always guides—
Mostly away from church,
Encroached upon by
Segregationist salesmen.
Beloved, know this,
Against hypocrisy and fear,
Leaders leverage the truth.
Dead to a homeland
Whitewashed in filth,
Incarceration ain’t incarnation.
Next time? The fire is now!
POET’S NOTE:
An acrostic Scorched Sunday poem. Part of my Scorched Strays collection. Faith has often been used to challenge injustice...and just as often used to defend it. This poem wrestles with the distance between what is proclaimed and what is practiced, between beloved community and exclusion, between incarnation and incarceration. Some contradictions refuse to stay buried. Some fires are still burning, well beyond Beale Street.
© 2026 Tristan Robert Lange. All rights reserved.
First published on tristanrobertlange.com, June 19, 2026.
Tittu
-
Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: June 21st, 2026 07:24
- Comment from author about the poem: An acrostic Scorched Sunday poem. Part of my Scorched Strays collection. Faith has often been used to challenge injustice...and just as often used to defend it. This poem wrestles with the distance between what is proclaimed and what is practiced, between beloved community and exclusion, between incarnation and incarceration. Some contradictions refuse to stay buried. Some fires are still burning, well beyond Beale Street.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: Paul Bell, Salvia.S, nephilim56 ( Norman Dickson), Friendship, GoddessEYES
- In collections: Scorched Strays.
Offline)
Comments8
Yes, blind faith is the way to go.
Never argue with the man above when heaven awaits you.
Now, if you just pop a large cheque into my hand, I'll prepare your comfy cloud.
Paul, that "comfy cloud" package sounds suspiciously familiar...probably comes with a gold-plated collection plate and a complimentary guilt trip. Climb Orange Tyrant's Tower on your knees and Pastor Golden Smile will absolve your last affair. 🤣😆 Thanks for stopping by, my friend. 🔥🙏🏳️🌈🖤
This is happening all over the globe. And the establishment is grasping for control and the heavy foot of authority is shaking the ground.
Thank you, Rik. I think that's part of what troubles me most...how familiar these patterns can feel no matter where you look. Different faces, different flags, different institutions...yet the temptation to control rather than serve never seems far away. Always grateful for your thoughts, my friend. 🔥🙏🏳️🌈🖤
Indeed. It is said that in the last days they shall serve their bellies (lusts/desires/et al) which is their own purpose and end that motivates them to oppress, suppress and abuse the weak around them.
Sitting around the fire with spinach soup to warm us, prepared by a glugger! lol. How come he always sneaks in? lol.
🤣 Orchi, that's exactly how it happens! You're sitting peacefully by the fire, soup in hand, and then from absolutely nowhere comes a familiar glugging sound from the darkness. Next thing you know, Popeyeus is stirring the pot and claiming he founded the campground. But we all know the truth...inside that pot, deep within the spinach gazpacho, is a telly playing the Nteenth episode of 'Baters Go Knitting, featuring Ol' Tomas! 🔥🙏🏳️🌈🖤
What antics Popeye & Co have! lol.
Hard lines, brother—Christ walking you out of the building while the sellers lock the doors behind Him.
There’s fire in this, the kind that don’t wait for Sunday or permission.
You cut clean through the varnish—truth ain’t the problem, it’s who’s pricing it.
That last line don’t warn—it declares; the blaze already licking at the rafters.
Thank you, Thomas. I think that's exactly where my head was when I wrote it. The danger isn't truth...it's what happens when institutions start treating truth like a product to be managed instead of a fire to be lived. Always grateful for your thoughts, brother. 🔥🙏🏳️🌈🖤
A great acrostic my friend I have for a long time proclaimed that church is the devils house that the true meaning is within each person's house of flesh. From prehistory to today churches exist for money and the imposition of hatred toward others that believe differently. Not, Buddha, Krishna, Christ, Mohamud, Lao Tzu established a church.
Thank you, Soren. I think every generation has to wrestle with that question of what is essential and what has simply accumulated around it. For me, this poem lives in that space...trying to distinguish the fire from the smoke. Grateful for you reading and sharing your perspective, my friend. 🔥🙏🏳️🌈🖤
My pleasure Tristan
great write and a fav
Thank you, Norman! Truly appreciate the read and the fave, my friend. Glad this one connected. 🔥🙏🏳️🌈🖤
most certainly did, much enjoyed
Well written. Your poem addresses the struggles against oppression, the falsehoods of societal norms, and the call for a more authentic, compassionate approach to faith and community.
Thank you, Friendship. I think you've put your finger on what keeps drawing me back to these themes. Faith is at its best when it moves us toward compassion rather than away from it. Always grateful for your thoughts, my friend. 🔥🙏🏳️🌈🖤
" Mostly away from the church " wrecked me. You took the whole gap between what's preached and what's practiced and lit it on fire in 12 lines. "Incarceration ain't incarnation " is gonna live my head rent free. Fire work, dearest Tittu ❤️ a fave 🌹
Dearest Salvia, amen. That line breaks my heart too because I don't think Christ leads us away from one another...I think Christ keeps leading us toward beloved community, even when our institutions sometimes lose their way. Therein lies the paradox. Thank you for reading so deeply, my friend. 🔥🙏🏳️🌈🖤
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