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The Great Chitlin Search of 202X

Aunties on both sides of my family went on a hunt for chitterlings last year, and used a lot of time and gas trying to find them. We swear that scrap meat recipes keep us attached to the ancestors. I enjoy special holiday dishes, but I'm salty. There's more to generational remembering than chittlins...


Chitlins simmer in pots of old

An heirloom passed, a story told

On holidays and family feasts

They bring past to life, to say the least


We savoring each bite with glee,

Cherish the past and legacy

The lingered flavors of our roots

Please fix a dish that don't dilute


For chitlins are more than just a meal

They're a connection, our love to feel

How long will we hold these threads,

To our mothers' kitchens and their homesteads,


The lengths we'll go to find the things

To make these blessed chitterlings

Can we let go of what has been

To forge a path that is yet unseen


The chittlin train had missed our town

We can't accept that going down

Organ meat was shorting out

My family found a different route


Traveling up and down the coast

Gas and miles to grab the ghost

Money transfers, telephone

Whoever found them first was on


One pot dank, one pot is straight

A little funky, "I already ate"

Need good hot sauce to mask the dirt

cause shit bacteria never hurt


From scrappin meat, we make delight

The taste of memories, so warm and bright

Swinging back from old and new

Its past pulls through a novel view


Let's try this hard for funds to mint

Over tasted buds endowment

If chittlins bind us to our kin

We strengthen ties with love within






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