2. Ode to the Dishonest Persons
By JH Sayyar
O mournful Muse, descend with me today,
Through halls where robed deceivers hold their sway,
Where justice weeps beneath a golden chain,
And truth is drowned in ink and boot and pain.
I.
Judges – Slaves of Glittering Gold
O learned lords in blackened gowns of lies,
Whose gavels toll like funeral cries
You sell the scales for silver coin and feast,
While widow’s wail and orphans plead, policed
The law, once sacred, kissed by wisdom’s fire,
Now bends to wealth, to every dark desire.
O you who once upheld the nation’s breath,
Now auction verdicts, sealing fates with death
2
Generals – Bowed to Biwi, Belt and Boot
O iron men with ribbons on your chest,
Who speak of honor—yet betray the rest.
A slave to Biwi's nod, the Belt’s command,
You trample peace with armored hand in hand.
The boot you worship crushes every voice,
Your power, not the people is your choice.
You sell the mines, the mountains, and the soil,
And call it “duty,” masking lust and spoil.
3
Journalists – Pens for Sale, Conscience Dead
O scribes once bold who stood against the tide,
Now whisper lies for wealth you cannot hide.
The truth you twist, for those who pay you well,
You sell the nation's soul, its dream to hell.
You praise the tyrant, mock the rebel cry,
While children starve and mothers question why
You ink the contracts soaked in bloody gold,
And silence voices brave, defiant and bold
4
Final Chorus – A Nation in Chains
O land of sun, now shadowed deep with gloom,
Your temples sold, your forests marked for doom.
The wealth of ages—minerals, dreams, and pride
Are bartered, stolen, raped and cast aside
The judges smile, the generals’ march in line,
The journalists toast to the nation's decline.
And we—the people—chained to silence, dust,
Watch justice rot and honor turn to rust.
5
Yet hear this cry, ye tyrants of the throne,
The winds of reckoning are nearly blown.
For gold may gleam, and boots may stomp the land,
But truth, once roused, will rise and make its stand.
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