A Call to the People of Power
O Men of War, the silence of your guns is deafening and the barrels of your rifles are too cold to hold.
O men of triumph your bullets are much too lonely and are yet to find their nest amongst the flesh of your enemy.
O Men of Pain, men of discomfort, men of struggle in your peace we find unrest and feel unease. The dust on your polished artillery is suffocating, can you not hear the dry and dead battlefields which are much in need of your life cry for your blood.
You men who were born to die, raising the Ray’a so high, do you not wish to join Mus’ab and Hamza at the Martyrs club?
O sons of Badr, the children of the rock today fight your battles, masonry has replaced your weaponry and the cradle has replaced your barracks.
O Men of infantry, the infantry of al-Quds, they feed of the breast of dignity. Their bodies are riddled with your Rizk as you parade in ceremony.
O defenders of the faith, the child cries I’m of the faithful, did you defend me, or did you uphold that which displeases Allah and rules with tyranny, but how quick you are to defend and support him whose ruling pleases only Allah’s enemies.
O Men of support, support Allah’s words and come and pledge your 75 swords