"A New Day" - Bahamas AI Art
©A. Derek Catalano
A New Day
It’s a new day, they cheer, flags wave in the sun,
The ballots were counted, the “right” team has won.
A chorus of promises, sweet as a hymn,
But the island still wobbles, a boat with no trim.
The leader strides forth with a glittering smile,
“Our future is bright! Just give it a while!”
But potholes grow bigger, the streets still flood,
And the treasury leaks like a sieve full of mud.
They’ve sworn on their lives to build us a bridge,
But the budget’s been spent on a ten-course fridge.
The markets are empty, the vendors just sigh,
“We’ve sold our last mango; the price is too high.”
The Yesterday Parade
Oh, yesterday’s woes, how they loomed so large,
With a government clueless and wildly in charge.
But today, oh today, it’s a carnival tune—
Same bad ideas, just a different cartoon.
The lights in the clinic? They flicker and die,
The school roofs still leak; the children ask, "Why?"
Infrastructure is a mess, the engines don’t run,
Things start to erode, under burning-hot sun.
Crumbling Promises
“We’re fixing it all!” they shout from the stage,
While backstage they bicker, drunk on their rage
But fear not, dear people, for hope still remains—
In the form of more taxes, and higher campaign gains.
They said they'd end graft, bring justice to bear,
But their cronies now lounge in the parliament chair.
Old faces return with new names and a spin,
Like mutton reheated and served as "new skin."
The People’s Lament
And we, the great people, who stood in long lines,
Filling out bubbles, ignoring the signs—
Now whisper in corners, with heads held low,
“Is this the tomorrow they promised would glow?”
The airwaves are crowded with bright talk show chatter,
But none of it touches the heart of the matter.
The fishermen curse as they mend broken nets,
And mothers count coins to pay rising debts.
Comedy in Despair
It’s all quite a joke, if you think about it,
The drama, the slogans, the grand counterfeit.
We chuckle through tears as the power goes out,
Our new dawn’s a blackout—of that, there’s no doubt.
The cows in the field eat weeds not hay,
While ministers feast on imported soufflé.
The roads are a circus, the drivers insane,
A metaphor clear for the national brain.
A Song for Tomorrow
So here’s to the leaders, the talkers, the spinners,
The fancy-suit wearers, the fat-cat winners.
May your yachts never sink in our treacherous seas,
While the rest of us pray for a strong trade breeze.
A new day, indeed, it’s all gone astray,
But we’ll wake up tomorrow and shout, “New Day!”
For laughter’s our balm, and hope’s our refrain,
On this sunburned island of joy and of pain.
It’s a new day, they cheer, flags wave in the sun,
The ballots were counted, the “right” team has won.
A chorus of promises, sweet as a hymn,
But the island still wobbles, a boat with no trim.
The leader strides forth with a glittering smile,
“Our future is bright! Just give it a while!”
But potholes grow bigger, the streets still flood,
And the treasury leaks like a sieve full of mud.
They’ve sworn on their lives to build us a bridge,
But the budget’s been spent on a ten-course fridge.
The markets are empty, the vendors just sigh,
“We’ve sold our last mango; the price is too high.”
The Yesterday Parade
Oh, yesterday’s woes, how they loomed so large,
With a government clueless and wildly in charge.
But today, oh today, it’s a carnival tune—
Same bad ideas, just a different cartoon.
The lights in the clinic? They flicker and die,
The school roofs still leak; the children ask, "Why?"
Infrastructure is a mess, the engines don’t run,
Things start to erode, under burning-hot sun.
Crumbling Promises
“We’re fixing it all!” they shout from the stage,
While backstage they bicker, drunk on their rage
But fear not, dear people, for hope still remains—
In the form of more taxes, and higher campaign gains.
They said they'd end graft, bring justice to bear,
But their cronies now lounge in the parliament chair.
Old faces return with new names and a spin,
Like mutton reheated and served as "new skin."
The People’s Lament
And we, the great people, who stood in long lines,
Filling out bubbles, ignoring the signs—
Now whisper in corners, with heads held low,
“Is this the tomorrow they promised would glow?”
The airwaves are crowded with bright talk show chatter,
But none of it touches the heart of the matter.
The fishermen curse as they mend broken nets,
And mothers count coins to pay rising debts.
Comedy in Despair
It’s all quite a joke, if you think about it,
The drama, the slogans, the grand counterfeit.
We chuckle through tears as the power goes out,
Our new dawn’s a blackout—of that, there’s no doubt.
The cows in the field eat weeds not hay,
While ministers feast on imported soufflé.
The roads are a circus, the drivers insane,
A metaphor clear for the national brain.
A Song for Tomorrow
So here’s to the leaders, the talkers, the spinners,
The fancy-suit wearers, the fat-cat winners.
May your yachts never sink in our treacherous seas,
While the rest of us pray for a strong trade breeze.
A new day, indeed, it’s all gone astray,
But we’ll wake up tomorrow and shout, “New Day!”
For laughter’s our balm, and hope’s our refrain,
On this sunburned island of joy and of pain.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT
