He marched beside a dreamer and carried on the flame,
Built a rainbow out of struggle, gave the voiceless a name.
Illness dimmed the body, but the thunder never waned,
Laid to rest with loved ones near, the legacy remains.
From the South Side to the ballot, he shook the nation’s core,
Leaders hailed his firebrand heart from every kind of shore.
Sources:
Turn it up, the world’s on edge, but we won’t fade to grey,
From mourning into marching, we will rise and say:
Truth won’t drown, hope won’t rust, even when the night is long—
Turn it up, turn it up, make justice our song.
Across the frost and wire, a verdict crossed the sea,
Labs lit up the darkness with a jungle chemistry.
They said the state had motive, and the means to make it sting,
His widow cried to heaven, named the hand behind the thing.
The courthouse of the Kremlin called it all a bitter lie—
But the frog-born shadow lingers where the fearless learn to die.
Sources:
Turn it up, the world’s on edge, but we won’t fade to grey,
From mourning into marching, we will rise and say:
Truth won’t drown, hope won’t rust, even when the night is long—
Turn it up, turn it up, make justice our song.
In Geneva’s cold-lit rooms, they circled words like fire,
An envoy from the desert, and a prince of deals and wire.
Oman held the middle while the drafts began to cross,
Strait gates briefly shuttered, carriers cut their gloss.
They called it real momentum, but the devil guards the seam—
Pages yet to barter in the half-light of a dream.
Sources:
In a capital of stalemate, a fortress lost its pay,
Most still stand in duty lines to keep the storms at bay.
Shots in northern streets ignited fury, sharpened laws,
While agents keep on moving through the loopholes and the flaws.
Congress took a breather, speeches brewing in the wings—
A Union waits for thunder and the shift that justice brings.
Sources:
Turn it up, the world’s on edge, but we won’t fade to grey,
From mourning into marching, we will rise and say:
Truth won’t drown, hope won’t rust, even when the night is long—
Turn it up, turn it up, make justice our song.
A brand-new board in Washington, bright banners, lofty claims,
Vast pledges for a shattered coast, rebuilt from ash and flames.
Nations sign in gilded ink—UAE, Amman on line,
Riyadh, Tel Aviv in chorus, while some allies decline.
Skeptics see a shadow of the blue flag’s crowded hall—
Is it help or is it power when the giants make the call?
Sources:
Moonrise called the faithful and the city lights went still,
Dates and dawn and whispered prayers, a turning of the will.
From Doha’s quiet kitchens to the courts of Paris stone,
Ash and crescent meeting where the sacred seeds are sown.
Scholars sail from Maghreb winds to teach and break the fast—
A chorus of forgiveness for a world that burns too fast.
Sources:
Turn it up, the world’s on edge, but we won’t fade to grey,
From mourning into marching, we will rise and say:
Truth won’t drown, hope won’t rust, even when the night is long—
Turn it up, turn it up, make justice our song.
Strike the chord for saints and rebels, let the skyline shake,
From closed straits to open hearts, feel the levees break.
Raise the lights, roll the drums—let the final crash belong
To the living and the fallen—
Turn it up, we are the song!
