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 –

Winds 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 burning sands keep rolling,

                 even as those trumpets sound,

And the souls that thirst for freedom,

                  are as yet not freedom-bound.