Poem:

Evil spirits of repression

haunt dark corners of the world,

With their ugly banners lifted

and their bloody flags unfurled.

O’er rolling sands of history

blow the winds of rampant crime –

Acts of terror and affliction

perpetrated all through time.

Still the marching tyrants follow

in footsteps of those before,

As the cruel winds of passion 

and injustice blow and blow.

In the oases of goodwill

beyond deserts of despair,

Trumpets of soul-stirring freedom

sound sweet messages of care.

But the evil sands keep rolling,

even as those trumpets sound,

While the souls of far too many

people yet not freedom-bound.

But the spirit of the people

long depressed and long forsaken,

Shall be gushing, sooner, later,

and from slumber must awaken

With the clock of retribution

that shall mark the final hour

Chiming the imminent destruction

of the tyrants with their power.