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Rangzeb Hussain Feb 2019
The storms are here,
People herded into concentration camps,

The regime labels them ‘re-education’ camps,
Torture and ****** takes place there,

They broke and erased a poet and musician inside,
His name was Abdurehim Heyit,

And the world never spoke out,
It danced the lion, dragon, and celebrated a pig,

Out there,
A storm weeps.
Rangzeb Hussain Nov 2018
The real face of a poppy,
Blood red and blind,

They died far from home,
Fighting for rich men’s causes,

Lads from forgotten fields,
Buried in war’s merciless lies,

Their lives brief and loud,
Now, only the decaying silence,

Unbutton your red lapel flower,
And remember lest you forget,

Remember,
The price of war is humanity and truth.
Rangzeb Hussain Jun 2018
From fresh green fields,
To the decaying arches of times,
Every place of solitude is a stage,
Dance and swirl with your soul,
Ink your delicate steps and compose,
Write a symphony woven with stars.
Rangzeb Hussain Jun 2018
The name of the Beloved is in every place,
Every nest,
In every light,

The Beloved is the light in the dark,
The dance in the flame is the Beloved's song,
Only those in love with love can hear that immortal tune.
Rangzeb Hussain Jun 2018
Her name was Razan Ashraf Abdul Qadir al-Najjar,
From 7am till 8pm she helped the injured,
Tending to them on the fields of freedom.

This was her weapon,
Her white medical coat,
Now stained with her life’s blood.

“Her only weapon was her medical vest,”
Her Mother’s voice drowns in pain,
“She may have been small, but she was strong.”

The last time she saw her daughter,
“She stood up and smiled at me,
She flew like a bird in front of me.”

The angel of mercy,
Her goal was to save lives,
And offer relief to the wounded.

Her arms raised high to show she was unarmed,
She approached a victim lying upon the ground,
But the ******’s trigger only knew the language of hatred.

And a bullet blinked hard and fast,
The wrath of the single butterfly bullet was so brutal
It ruptured into three other medics.

A bullet designed to explode upon impact,
It lacerates and pulverises bone and tissue,
The Devil’s Banned Bullet.

It was a Friday,
In the month of Ramadan,
When the desert sand drank her blood.

A weeping Mother kisses a jacket
Stained with her daughter’s blood,
“I wish I could have seen her in her white wedding dress.”

Only the songs of lamentations now,
Grief shrieks through the streets without water,
And the world watches in censored silence.
Rangzeb Hussain May 2018
No man can cage freedom’s light,
No violent state can destroy hope,
The sacred blood of children,
Those who shed it are the ******,
Beauty and peace shall come,
Their song will be liberty’s dance.
Rangzeb Hussain Mar 2018
The message was not racism and slavery,
The message was not lies and daily news fakery,

The message was not war and plunder,
The message was not hate and ******,

The message was not walls and invasions,
The message was not hypocrisy and devastation,

The message was not flags and borders,
The message was not chaos and disorder,

The message was not hot cross buns and chocolate bunnies,
The message was not idols and money,

The message was family and humanity,
The message was love and unity.
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