"Divulge" - Bahamas AI Art
©A. Derek Catalano
Sing Like a Bird
On the shores of a sunburnt isle,
Where waves whisper secrets in coral smiles,
A shadowed figure in cuffs was led,
Through streets where the truth was left unsaid.
The weight of sins upon their chest,
A conscience long dormant, now confessed.
Beneath the palms, where sunlight kissed,
The names of devils filled their list.
Men of power, cloaked in pride,
Their gilded lies now thrown aside.
For years they wove a wicked thread,
Of poison trails and rivers red.
"Sing like a bird," the jailers said,
Their voices cold, their eyes blood-red.
"Tell us the tale of your secret feast,
Of guns and drugs and gilded beasts.
Lay bare the names who shared your spoils,
The lords of crime who oiled your coils."
And so the bird began its song,
A melody dark, a dirge prolonged.
The names spilled forth like poisoned rain,
Each syllable a howl of pain.
"Politicians, robed in deceit,
With bloody hands and golden seats.
"The officers who turned their gaze,
While shipments came in moonlit haze.
Powdered death on broken backs,
Guns to arm the night’s attacks.
Their pockets lined, their hearts decayed,
Empires built on lives betrayed."
The halls of power began to quake,
As whispers rose, as shadows wake.
High towers loomed, their gilded spires,
Built on the bones of cursed desires.
And in their beds, the wicked prayed,
That silence bought would not betray.
But the bird sang on, its wings unchained,
Through fire, through blood, through acid rain.
It named the lords who danced on graves,
The ones who trafficked souls as slaves.
A wretched hymn of greed and vice,
Of islands burned in paradise.
The courtroom filled with restless eyes,
The accused wore masks, but could not disguise
The fear that lurked behind their lids,
Their crimes unbound, their lives undid.
The gavel struck, the bird still sung,
Its voice a dagger, its words a gun.
Some fled the isle, their shadows long,
To foreign lands where lies belong.
But justice, cold and sharp as steel,
Reached out with claws that made them kneel.
For the bird had torn the veil apart,
Exposing rot in the island’s heart.
Now whispers haunt the midnight tide,
A warning where the devils hide.
That power gained through blood and strife,
Will crumble fast beneath the knife.
For in the cage, where guilt takes flight,
The bird still sings, a blight, a light.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT
