"What Kind of Future" - Bahamas AI Art
©A. Derek Catalano
What Kind of Future
In the shadow of mountains, where rivers once sang,
Lies a small, broken nation, now marked by its pang.
Its fields once abundant, now cracked and decayed,
The dreams of its people in ruins are laid.
The whispers of elders, now bitter with shame,
Speak of a homeland once gleaming with fame.
The streets that held laughter now echo with cries,
As corruption ascends and morality dies.
What kind of future do we leave behind,
For the hearts yet unbroken, for the innocent mind?
Will they curse our neglect, or strive to forgive,
In a world we have ruined, yet ask them to live?
The Throne of Corruption
On the throne sits a leader with greed in his eyes,
His promises crumble, his rhetoric lies.
The coffers are empty, the pockets are full,
Justice wears chains; power’s strings always pull.
The laws are a mirage, written in dust,
The balance of fairness corrupted by lust.
Courts sell decisions, the bribes never cease,
The idea of truth replaced by caprice.
Beneath this dark reign, the people despair,
Betrayed by their rulers, left gasping for air.
What once was a haven of honor and pride,
Is a kingdom of ashes, where virtues have died.
Streets of Shadows
The streets tell their stories in blood and in tears,
Haunted by echoes of vanquished years.
Gangs roam the alleys, their weapons their law,
A system in pieces reveals every flaw.
The merchants are cowed, their goods barely sold,
As fear overshadows their spirit of old.
Children go hungry, their bellies are bare,
Their futures devoured by an empty despair.
The schools are in ruins, their walls barely stand,
Once fountains of knowledge, now choked by neglect's hand.
What lessons remain in a crumbling hall,
When survival itself is the most urgent call?
What kind of future can bloom in this soil,
When crime feeds the hungry and vice earns the spoils?
When every tomorrow seems bleaker than last,
Do we teach hope—or the lessons of the past?
Generations Forgotten
The grandparents sigh as they watch the decay,
They've seen brighter mornings; they've known better days.
Their wrinkles hold stories of triumph and song,
Of building this nation where they once belonged.
But what do they tell to the young at their knees?
That greed was a sickness, a spreading disease?
That unity faltered, and selfishness grew,
That promises broken had torn it in two?
Their voices crack softly: "We let this be so.
We failed to resist when the darkness would grow.
We turned from each other, we fell for the lie,
Now we leave you a world where your hopes go to die."
Seeds of Tomorrow
Yet in the shadows, a flicker remains,
A whisper of hope, a resistance to chains.
The youth rise in anger, their fire burns bright,
Their voices like thunder, their fists clenched for fight.
But will they rebuild on this ground soaked in pain?
Can they plant seeds of justice in such poisoned terrain?
Will they find strength to create, to forgive,
To heal all the wounds and relearn how to live?
For every tomorrow, they carry the weight,
Of choices we’ve made, of the hand dealt by fate.
And so, we must wonder, with shame in our view,
What kind of future will they build anew?
The Answer Awaits
What kind of future can rise from this plight,
From the ashes of greed, from the long darkest night?
Will wisdom emerge from the lessons of woe,
Or will history’s cycle again overthrow?
The answer’s unwritten, the ending unclear,
But a warning remains for those who might hear:
The seeds of corruption bring ruin and strife,
But the seeds of compassion may yet spark new life.
So as we stand trembling, on history’s stage,
The story unfolds with each turn of the page.
Let us vow for the children, the next to endure,
To leave them a world that is just, bright, and pure.
In the shadow of mountains, where rivers once sang,
Lies a small, broken nation, now marked by its pang.
Its fields once abundant, now cracked and decayed,
The dreams of its people in ruins are laid.
The whispers of elders, now bitter with shame,
Speak of a homeland once gleaming with fame.
The streets that held laughter now echo with cries,
As corruption ascends and morality dies.
What kind of future do we leave behind,
For the hearts yet unbroken, for the innocent mind?
Will they curse our neglect, or strive to forgive,
In a world we have ruined, yet ask them to live?
The Throne of Corruption
On the throne sits a leader with greed in his eyes,
His promises crumble, his rhetoric lies.
The coffers are empty, the pockets are full,
Justice wears chains; power’s strings always pull.
The laws are a mirage, written in dust,
The balance of fairness corrupted by lust.
Courts sell decisions, the bribes never cease,
The idea of truth replaced by caprice.
Beneath this dark reign, the people despair,
Betrayed by their rulers, left gasping for air.
What once was a haven of honor and pride,
Is a kingdom of ashes, where virtues have died.
Streets of Shadows
The streets tell their stories in blood and in tears,
Haunted by echoes of vanquished years.
Gangs roam the alleys, their weapons their law,
A system in pieces reveals every flaw.
The merchants are cowed, their goods barely sold,
As fear overshadows their spirit of old.
Children go hungry, their bellies are bare,
Their futures devoured by an empty despair.
The schools are in ruins, their walls barely stand,
Once fountains of knowledge, now choked by neglect's hand.
What lessons remain in a crumbling hall,
When survival itself is the most urgent call?
What kind of future can bloom in this soil,
When crime feeds the hungry and vice earns the spoils?
When every tomorrow seems bleaker than last,
Do we teach hope—or the lessons of the past?
Generations Forgotten
The grandparents sigh as they watch the decay,
They've seen brighter mornings; they've known better days.
Their wrinkles hold stories of triumph and song,
Of building this nation where they once belonged.
But what do they tell to the young at their knees?
That greed was a sickness, a spreading disease?
That unity faltered, and selfishness grew,
That promises broken had torn it in two?
Their voices crack softly: "We let this be so.
We failed to resist when the darkness would grow.
We turned from each other, we fell for the lie,
Now we leave you a world where your hopes go to die."
Seeds of Tomorrow
Yet in the shadows, a flicker remains,
A whisper of hope, a resistance to chains.
The youth rise in anger, their fire burns bright,
Their voices like thunder, their fists clenched for fight.
But will they rebuild on this ground soaked in pain?
Can they plant seeds of justice in such poisoned terrain?
Will they find strength to create, to forgive,
To heal all the wounds and relearn how to live?
For every tomorrow, they carry the weight,
Of choices we’ve made, of the hand dealt by fate.
And so, we must wonder, with shame in our view,
What kind of future will they build anew?
The Answer Awaits
What kind of future can rise from this plight,
From the ashes of greed, from the long darkest night?
Will wisdom emerge from the lessons of woe,
Or will history’s cycle again overthrow?
The answer’s unwritten, the ending unclear,
But a warning remains for those who might hear:
The seeds of corruption bring ruin and strife,
But the seeds of compassion may yet spark new life.
So as we stand trembling, on history’s stage,
The story unfolds with each turn of the page.
Let us vow for the children, the next to endure,
To leave them a world that is just, bright, and pure.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT
