Anthem of the oppressed.

Anthem of the oppressed 

By Bunguswa Brian

Oh land once blessed, a jewel untamed,

Now scarred and beaten, your beauty maimed.

The sun once shone on your fertile plains,

Now darkened skies bear freedom’s chains.

Your rivers murmur of sorrow’s weight,

Your winds whisper tales of a stolen fate.

The president reigns, a shadowed king,

His word is law; his praises they sing.

Legislators kneel, their conscience sold,

For pieces of silver, for promises cold.

The judiciary too, once noble, once pure,

Now dances to tunes they cannot endure.

Opposition leaders, once fiery, once bold,

Now wear cloaks of deceit, their principles sold.

Their fists once clenched, their voices once high,

Now softened by bribes, they watch us die.

Oh, where is the courage, the strength, the might,

To stand for the people, to fight the fight?

The common man bears the burden alone,

In fields of despair, seeds of hope are sown.

But their cries are drowned by the tyrant’s roar,

Their dreams are trampled on the bloodied floor.

The farmer, the mason, the mother, the child,

All silenced, oppressed, their spirits defiled.

Dissenters rise with voices clear,

But their courage is met with brutal fear.

In shadows they vanish, in silence they fade,

By hands unseen, in darkness made.

The streets are empty, their echoes grim,

As abduction and fear drown hope within.

Oh president, oh ruler, your throne is a pyre,

Built on the anguish of those you conspire.

Your words are venom, your actions cruel,

A master of hate, a tyrant’s tool.

Your language cuts like a sharpened blade,

Mocking the tears of the lives you’ve frayed.

Yet deep in the heart of the common man,

Lies a spark, a hope, an eternal plan.

No chain can bind the spirit’s will,

No darkness can the dawn distill.

For every whisper you seek to erase,

A thousand voices will take its place.

The mountains watch, the rivers flow,

They know the truth that you won’t show.

Your days are numbered, your rule will cease,

For tyranny can never outlast peace.

The anthem of freedom waits to be sung,

By the old and the weary, the brave and the young.

Oh land of misrule, your time will end,

The tyrant’s reign will break, will bend.

The people will rise, their spirits strong,

To right the injustices, to heal the wrong.

And in that dawn, when justice is crowned,

No tyrant’s echo will dare resound.

So let us endure, though battered and torn,

For every dark night births a brighter morn.

Let us unite, in silence or song,

For together we stand, together we’re strong.

And one day soon, our anthem will soar,

A cry for justice forevermore.

The president's Retort

You dare speak of misrule with your hollow cries?

Clutch your broken dreams; I see through your lies.

The throne I hold, the power I wield,

Was earned in battles, not in fields.

You scribble verses, casting blame,

But your words are weak, a poet’s shame.

What do you know of the weight I bear?

A nation’s burden, a leader’s despair.

Opposition bought? They came on their knees,

Begging for crumbs, pleading to please.

The courts? The law? They bow to my might,

For they know what’s wrong, and they know what’s right.

You, the common man, with your fists in the air,

What have you built? What do you dare?

Your voices rise, but they’re shrill and vain,

A rabble of fools, drunk on pain.

Dissent? Go ahead, shout and wail,

Your whispers fade; your efforts fail.

My rule is iron, my will is stone,

I’ve silenced kingdoms; you’re not alone.

You call me a tyrant, a king of despair?

Yet your cries are proof you still breathe the air.

I could crush you all with a single decree,

But I let you rant—it amuses me.

Freedom, justice, your anthem’s refrain?

A child’s dream, a fool’s campaign.

The throne is mine, the crown, the land,

And none shall take it from my hand.

So sing your songs, write your verse,

Curse my name, rehearse, rehearse.

For while you weep and clutch at straws,

I rule supreme, I write the laws.

Let history judge me, let time decide,

But for now, I reign, with power and pride.

Your future is mine, your fate is sealed,

Kneel or rebel—my sword won’t yield.

A People’s Resolve

We’ve heard your scorn, your venomous speech,

Your mockery loud, but out of reach.

You think us weak, a scattered throng,

But you misjudge—our will is strong.

No tyrant stands for all of time,

And your fall will echo, steeped in crime.

You call us fools, a rabble in vain,

Yet the cracks in your throne betray the strain.

For every harsh word, for every decree,

We rise as one, our hearts still free.

You’ve silenced voices, stolen breath,

But you’ll never quiet the march of death.

We are the storm, the fire, the flood,

Born from the soil, nourished by blood.

You rule with fear, but fear will fade,

And leave your empire in ruins made.

No iron grip, no soldier’s line,

Can crush a spirit so divine.

To the fields, to the streets, we call,

Rise together, one and all.

No more silence, no more chains,

No more suffering, no more pains.

From the hills to the cities, the rivers wide,

The people march, side by side.

We call to the farmer, the laborer, the youth,

To stand for justice, to fight for truth.

To mothers who’ve wept, to fathers who’ve bled,

To the memories of the missing, the voices of the dead.

This is our moment, our battle cry,

For freedom we’ll fight, for freedom we’ll die.

Build no more monuments to fear,

Raise no more walls, shed no more tears.

We’ll tear down the towers of your hate,

And forge anew this nation’s fate.

With every strike, with every song,

We reclaim the rights that were ours all along.

We summon courage from the darkest night,

We’ll be the dawn, the blazing light.

The anthem of freedom shall ring at last,

A melody stronger than your cruel past.

And when your throne crumbles to the ground,

Our victory song will resound.

Oh, people of the land, this is our call,

To rise, resist, and conquer all.

Let no one falter, let no one stray,

Together we march to a brighter day.

The tyrant’s time is at its end,

Our freedom, our power, we shall defend.

For no ruler owns what the people create,

And no king escapes the hand of fate.

We’ll write a future, just and free,

A land of hope, of unity.

So rise, oh people, strong and proud,

And silence tyranny’s mocking crowd.

The president's Response

You speak of rising, of breaking my reign,

Yet your efforts will crumble, all in vain.

For power is mine, and yours is but air,

A dream that withers in despair.

You march with courage, or so you claim,

But courage fades in tyranny’s flame.

I’ve seen such uprisings, loud and grand,

Yet all have fallen beneath my hand.

Your unity’s fragile, your strength a lie,

Built on whispers, destined to die.

While you chant your songs of the free,

I rule unchallenged, eternally.

I welcome your fight, your feeble display,

For it strengthens my throne day by day.

You’ll find no cracks, no path to take,

Only walls you’ll never break.

So rise if you will, shout and cry,

But remember this as you defy:

Kings are made by the strongest will,

And mine shall reign unbroken still.

The People’s Final Cry

This is the hour, this is the day,

No more waiting, no more delay.

We’ve borne your chains, your brutal hand,

But today we rise, we reclaim our land.

For too long you’ve ruled with venom and fear,

Turning dreams to ashes, laughter to tears.

Your promises false, your power obscene,

You’ve poisoned the soil where hope once had been.

But no more will we cower, no more will we bow,

The hour of reckoning is here, and it’s now.

We are the ones who till the earth,

Who build the homes, who prove our worth.

The sweat of our brow feeds your greed,

But today we take back all that we need.

The tools of our labor now weapons of might,

The fields will roar with our cries tonight.

To the streets we march, a tide unbroken,

Carrying the grief of words unspoken.

For the stolen lives, for the silent screams,

For the shattered hopes, for the broken dreams.

Each step we take, each voice we raise,

Marks the end of your cruelest days.

Your soldiers stand, their guns in hand,

But even they feel the pulse of the land.

They see in our eyes the fire untamed,

And know that today, their ruler is named.

For no weapon forged, no wall so high,

Can hold back a people who’ve chosen to try.

We’ve suffered in silence, but silence no more,

The tide has turned, we settle the score.

Your palaces crumble, your banners fall,

The voices of millions echo through it all.

The anthem of freedom shakes the air,

And all your power dissolves in despair.

We call to the heavens, to the spirits of old,

To guide us, protect us, make us bold.

The blood of our fathers, the tears of our kin,

Flow in our veins, urging us to win.

With unity bound, with justice our creed,

We’ll sow the future, we’ll plant the seed.

Oh tyrant, your reign ends today,

The people have come to take you away.

You’ll face the truth, the weight of your crimes,

The pain you’ve sown through countless times.

The voices you silenced will ring out clear,

And drown out your legacy, built on fear.

To every mother who mourned her child,

To every voice you exiled or defiled,

We swear this oath, this sacred vow,

Justice is coming, and it starts now.

The land will heal, the people will rise,

And hope will bloom beneath the skies.

So tremble, oh tyrant, for this is the end,

No crown, no sword, no lie can defend.

The power you claimed, the throne you stole,

Will crumble beneath our collective soul.

And from the ashes, a new dawn will break,

A land reborn for the people's sake.

©Bunguswa™