Get a Steady Job

 

 "9 to 5" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

 Get a Steady Job

The morning mist is thick and grey, a blanket on the street,
As echoes of the alarm clock start their rhythmic, jarring beat.
They say the world is waiting for the bold and for the brave,
But mostly it is waiting for the worker and the slave.
A piece of sage advice is whispered, often with a sob,
"Forget your dreams of stardust, son, and get a steady job."

It starts with starch and ironed shirts, a tie that’s pulled too tight,
A transition from the dreaming hours to fluorescent, buzzing light.
The cubicle, a padded cell, a square of grey and tan,
The blueprint for the future of a sensible, grown man.
No more the paint-stained fingers or the lyrics on the page,
Just the comfort of a steady hand within a gilded cage.

"There’s dignity in labor," so the ancient masters told,
To trade the fire of youth away for silver and for gold.
To watch the clock with heavy eyes and pray for five o’clock,
While life is ticking, leaking out, like water on a rock.
The benefits are structured well, the dental plan is fine,
It compensates for all the things you’ve left behind the line.

No Man is an Island

 "Lonely Island" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

 No Man is an Island

The mountain stands in lonely pride, its peak against the blue,
With granite walls and frozen heart, it needs no point of view.
But man is made of softer clay, of spirit, breath, and bone,
And withered is the soul that seeks to journey all alone.
Though ego whispers of the self, a kingdom for the one,
No flower blooms in shadow-lands without the golden sun;
So too the heart, in silence locked behind a heavy door,
Becomes a shell upon the sand, a ghost upon the shore.

We are the threads of tapestry, a grand and vast design,
Where every color relies upon the neighboring strand of line.
To cut the cord and drift away in search of sovereign ground
Is but to lose the melody and silence every sound.
For in the infant’s first-drawn breath, a mother’s touch is there,
A social contract written in the very morning air;
We learn to speak by hearing speech, to love by being loved,
By countless hands and unseen hearts, our heavy stones are moved.

Consider well the lonely tree that braves the winter’s gale,
Without the forest at its back, its rooted strength will fail.
But when the grove stands thick and deep, the roots begin to lace,
They share the water of the earth, they hold the soil in place.
So let us hold our brother’s hand when shadows start to creep,
And let us share the heavy load when hills are high and steep.
For joy is doubled when it’s shared, and grief is cut in two,
When shared with those who walk the path and see the world with you.

Together In Harmony

 

 "Peace on Earth" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

Together In Harmony

In the corridors of history, where the ancient shadows lie,
We have built up mighty fortresses beneath a heavy sky.
We’ve carved the world in segments, drawing lines upon the sand,
With a prejudice for borders and a claim on every land.
We have looked upon our neighbor with a cold and wary eye,
Letting differences of color or of creed become a lie—
A lie that says we’re separate, that we’re cast in different molds,
While the story of our common heart remains a tale untold.

But the winds of change are stirring in the valley of the soul,
A whisper growing louder that we finally must be whole.
For the steel of every weapon and the fire of every war,
Has never brought the solace that our weary spirits implore.
We have marched through centuries of grief and bitter, hollow pride,
With a chest of heavy secrets and no place for them to hide.
Yet the morning light is breaking on a vision wide and vast,
Where we lay the heavy armor of our prehistoric past.

Imagine now a kingdom not of silver or of gold,
But a commonwealth of kindness where the truth is finally told.
Where the language that we speak is not a tool of sharp deceit,
But a bridge of understanding where the mind and spirit meet.
Where the labels we’ve inherited—the "them" and then the "us"—
Are dissolved like morning mist beneath a light of mutual trust.
For the skin is but a garment, and the faith a different song,
In a choir where every melody has always did belong.

Manners and Respect Will Take You Around the World

 

"International Meeting" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

Manners and Respect Will Take You Around the World

In the bustling streets of a neon town,
Or where the golden sun goes down
In quiet fields of emerald green,
A silent power moves unseen.
It is not gold, nor silver rare,
Nor jewels that wealthy monarchs wear;
It is the grace of how we stand,
A bridge that spans from land to land.
For though the tongues we speak may change,
And customs seem both new and strange,
A common thread binds every shore:
The kindness we can all outpour.

The "magic words" are keys of light
That turn the darkness into bright.
A simple "Please" can open gates
That have been locked by iron weights.
And "Thank you" is the softest song
To right a day that’s going wrong.
When errors fall, as they often do,
A "Sorry" brings the heart to view;
It heals the rift and mends the tear,
And clears the tension from the air.
"Excuse me" is the gentle plea
To honor shared humanity.

Respect is not a heavy crown,
But laying self-importance down.
It’s honoring the elder’s face,
The wisdom etched in time and space.
It’s seeing those who serve our food,
With patience and with gratitude.
The porter, clerk, or passing guest—
Each soul deserves our very best.
For when we treat the humble well,
We cast a warm and lasting spell;
The world reflects the light we give,
In every city where we live.

Beware of the Megalomaniac

 

 "The Megalomaniac" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

 Beware of the Megalomaniac

Observe the man upon the height, who claims to own the very sun,
Who views the world as mere domain, and life a race already won.
Behind the gaze of frozen glass, where empathy has gone to die,
There dwells a mind of grand design, built on a tower of a lie.
So harken now to every verse, and let the warning bell be struck,
For those who walk within his path shall surely find a bitter luck.

The Golden Mask of Vanity

He walks with heavy, arrogant stride, a king without a noble cause,
Demanding all the world obey his whims and self-invented laws.
His ego is a bloated sail that catches every passing breeze,
He does not walk upon the earth; he expects us on our knees.
An idealized vision of the self, a god carved out of common clay,
He believes the light was made for him to herald in the coming day.

The Delusion of Invincible Might

He counts himself invincible, a titan who can never fall,
To him, the highest mountain peak is but a short and simple wall.
No obstacle can block his path, no river deep enough to drown,
For in his warped and fevered mind, he wears a permanent, bright crown.
But this is not a courage found in hearts of gold or spirits brave,
It is a madness of the soul that leads him closer to the grave.

You Must Be Driven

 

 "Dreams and Goals" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

 You Must Be Driven

The blueprint lies upon the desk, a map of hope and light,
A calculated strategy to conquer through the night.
For dreams are merely shadows if they lack a solid base,
You need a plan to guide your steps and keep a steady pace.
But blueprints are but paper, and the ink is only dry,
Until you find the fire that reflects within your eye.
To reach the peak of promise and the goals that you have set,
You must be driven by a force the world hasn't witnessed yet.

The road is rarely level, and the path is seldom clear,
It winds through thickets of self-doubt and over ridges of your fear.
The sweat will bead upon your brow, the toil will weigh you down,
But labor is the only gold that buys a victor's crown.
You work while others slumber, and you rise before the sun,
Because the race for greatness is a race that’s never done.
It takes a heart of iron and a soul of tempered steel,
To keep the momentum moving and the spirit’s fire real.

But what if structures crumble? What if foundations fail?
What if the storm comes crashing in and rips away your sail?
There is no shame in falling, or in seeing plans decay,
The shame is only found in those who choose to walk away.
If everything you’ve built should fall and turn to dust and sand,
You brush the debris off your knees and take a firmer stand.
To start again is courage in its purest, rarest form,
To build a better shelter in the center of the storm.

Blue Marlin, The Cerulean King

 

 "Leaping Blue Marlin" - Bahamas AI Image

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

 The Cerulean King

An Ode to the Blue Marlin, National Fish of The Bahamas

In the kingdom where the sapphire tide meets the burning gold of day,
Where the coral gardens blossom in the salt-flecked, turquoise spray,
There dwells a monarch robed in light, of muscle, speed, and grace,
The swiftest ghost of Lucayan seas, the master of the chase.
With a spear of bone and a heart of fire, through the rolling deep he runs,
A living shard of the ocean’s soul, beneath the tropical suns.

I. The Form of Majesty

His flank is etched in cobalt ink, with silvered stripes that glow,
A shifting neon symphony as he prowls the depths below.
A dorsal fin like a jagged sail, a crescent tail of steel,
He moves with the silent thunder that the trembling currents feel.
The Makaira nigricans, in shadows dark and dim,
No creature of the seven seas can ever match with him.
Ten hundred pounds of leaping power, a lightning bolt in blue,
He pierces through the glassy swell to start his life anew.

II. The Dance of the Deep

When the hook is set and the line is taut, the battle-cry is heard,
He breaks the surface, soaring high, as graceful as a bird.
He "walks the water" on his tail, a greyhound of the brine,
Against the angler’s straining reel and the singing nylon line.
In somersaults and silver arcs, he defies the heavy air,
A warrior of the indigo, with a wild and regal flare.
To see him rise is to behold a wonder fierce and grand,
The pride of every island shore and every sun-drenched sand.

My Own Car

 

 "New Bran'Trans" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

 My Own Car

I wan' my own car
'Cause I tired catchin' ride,
A new bran' trans

Wit' A/C pipin' inside.

I wan' my own car
So I could feel proud,
Inside my private space
Wit' da music turn up loud.

I wan' my own car
Engine or electric,
No matter which one
I still gatty deal wit' traffic.

Make Sacrifices Sometimes

 

 

Make Sacrifices Sometimes

The sun cannot rise without chasing the moon,
The harvest won’t come if the seeds are not strewn.
To walk on a path where the greatness resides,
One must leave the shore and the comfort of tides.
For life is a ledger of give and of take,
And choices are anchors that we must forsake.
It isn't a loss when the spirit is wise,
To learn that we all must make sacrifices sometimes.

Consider the scholar in halls dim and deep,
Who barters his rest while the rest of us sleep.
He misses the party, the laughter, the light,
To trade for a future that’s steady and bright.
The ink on his fingers, the ache in his eyes,
Are tokens of growth in a quiet disguise.
He knows that the ladder he’s destined to climb,
Is built on the ruins of wasted-free time.

Or look to the athlete who rises at dawn,
When frost is still clinging to grass on the lawn.
The sweets are rejected, the muscles are strained,
For a moment of glory that’s hardly attained.
Each mile that is run in the biting of cold,
Is a debt paid in silver for dreams made of gold.
The body may tremble, the spirit may cry,
But the podium waits for the ones who apply.

Don't Label Me

 

"Labeled" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

Don't Label Me

You see a face, a style, a stride,
And think you know the soul inside.
You reach for stickers, ink, and pen,
To sort me in a little den.
With narrow terms and boxed-in thought,
You seek to trap what can’t be caught.
But look again, and look more deep,
Before you take that mental leap.

Don’t label me with shorthand words,
Like silhouettes of phantom birds.
I am a map with shifting coast,
A living breath, no hollow ghost.
I am the sum of all I’ve been,
The wars I’ve lost, the grace I’ve seen.
There is no tag that you can buy,
To pin me like a butterfly.

I am a river, not a lake,
Defined by every turn I take.
Today I’m fire, bright and bold,
Tomorrow, water, deep and cold.
I carry lineages of light,
And shadows from the blackest night.
I am a scholar and a fool,
A jagged edge, a steady tool.

Govern Your Tongue

 

 " Govern Your Tongue" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

 Govern Your Tongue

 

The gate is small, the passage thin,
Where all our outward thoughts begin;
A muscle slight, of flesh and blood,
That holds the power of fire or flood.
Behold the tongue, a restless spark,
That lights a hearth or chars the dark,
A rudder on a mighty ship,
That steers the soul with every slip.

The word once loosed is like a bird,
That flies the moment it is heard;
You may repent and plead and pray,
And wash the bitter stains away,
But though the heart grants grace and peace,
The spoken word finds no release.
Like arrows sped from tightened bow,
You cannot stop where they may go.

The wound may heal, the scar remain,
A quiet echo of the pain;
For though forgiveness mends the soul,
And makes the broken spirit whole,
The memory of a piercing word
Is like a bell that’s once been heard—
The chime may fade into the air,
But knowledge of the sound is there.

Some Go Up, Some Go Down

 

 "Fallen King" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

Some Go Up, Some Go Down 

 

The world is a wheel with a restless spin,
Where the losses are thick and the victories thin.
On the golden rungs of a ladder tall,
Some scramble upward while others will fall.
For the winds of fortune are fickle and fast,
Turning the first into lonely and last,
And lifting the soul who was buried in clay
To the brilliant heights of a brand-new day.

I. The Ascent

Some are born with a spark in the eye,
With wings already fashioned to fly.
They climb through the clouds with a steady hand,
Surveying the riches of all the land.
Their names are etched upon marble and stone,
They sit for a while on a glittering throne.
With every endeavor, they seem to increase,
In a world of abundance and effortless peace.
They build up their towers of silver and glass,
Watching the shadows of lesser men pass.

II. The Descent

But the ground is a hungry and patient thing,
Waiting for those who have acted as king.
For some go down with a sudden crash,
When the markets fail or the empires smash.
A slip of the foot or a change in the tide,
A hollowed-out heart or a blinded pride,
And the man who was walking the edge of the sun
Finds that his season of glory is done.
He tumbles through darkness, stripped of his name,
To the cold, quiet valley of silence and shame.

New Year, New Rules

 

 "New Day" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

New Year, New Rules

The Junkanoo echoes have faded away,
The brass and the goatskin have finished their play.
The sun rises bright o’er the tongue of the ocean,
Setting a spirit of change into motion.
From the streets of Nassau to the Family Isle,
It’s time to trade habits and walk a new mile.
The calendar turns, and the mandate is clear:
New Year, New Rules for a better frontier.

The Temple and the Table

We start with the body, the vessel we own,
Too long have we feasted on sugars alone.
Less heavy souse and less floury bread,
Let’s choose the fresh fruits of the garden instead.
The weight that we carry, we vow now to shed,
To walk on the beach with a lighter, swifter tread.

The habit of smoke that clouds up the brain,
The bottle that beckons to numb every pain—
We’re putting them down, for the lungs need the breeze,
And the mind deserves clarity, comfort, and ease.
No more for the powders or pills that ensnare,
We’re breathing the salt of the Caribbean air.

A Healthy Nation is a Wealthy Nation

 

 "Health Walk" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

A Healthy Nation is a Wealthy Nation

From the pines of Abaco to Inagua’s salt-white plain,
A message echoes o’er the blue, a chorus to maintain.
For the strength of our archipelago, the power of our name,
Lies not in gold or silver hoards, but in the human frame.
A nation’s purse is empty if its people’s pulse is weak,
So let us find the vibrant life and the wellness that we seek.

The Fuel of the Islands

In a land of sun and soil, we must choose what’s on our plate,
To turn away from processed bins and change our heavy fate.
Less of the grease and salty flour, the sugars that deceive,
And more of what the Bahamian earth is ready to achieve.
Bright scarlet tomatoes, the pigeon peas and rice,
Fresh citrus from the backyard grove—a natural paradise.
We swap the soda for the well, the bottle for the glass,
Let clear, cool water be the tide through which our spirits pass.
Two liters for the thirsty soul to keep the kidneys clean,
The purest drink for island folk that the world has ever seen.

The Rhythm of the Body

Our bodies were not built for chairs or lounging in the shade,
But for the movement of the surf, for the progress we have made.
Go walk the length of Goodman’s Bay or climb the Queen’s Staircase,
Let exercise become the norm, a steady, healthy pace.
And when the orange sun descends and moonbeams start to creep,
Honor the temple of the mind with seven hours of sleep.
In silence, cells begin to mend and weary muscles grow,
Restoring all the energy the morning needs to show.

Peace on Earth: A Vow Beyond the Season

 

 "Peace Tree" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

 Peace on Earth: A Vow Beyond the Season

Part I: The Midwinter Hush

Upon the weary world, a silence falls,
A velvet hush within the winter night,
No trumpet blast, no frantic bugle calls,
But soft reflections of the candle’s light.
The snow descends to blanket every street,
To mute the heavy tread of marching feet,
And for a moment, under starry skies,
The anger sleeping in the city dies.

We speak of "Peace on Earth" on this one day,
When pine and holly decorate the door,
We put the armor of our grief away,
And vow to study violence no more.
It feels so simple when the choir sings,
And when the bell inside the steeple rings;
A truce is called in every human heart,
And enemies agree to stand apart.

The hearth is warm, the cider mug is deep,
The children dream in innocence and trust,
The promises we made, we try to keep,
And brush away the cynicism’s dust.
It is a golden hour, fragile, bright,
A single candle conquering the night,
Where neighbor smiles at neighbor in the cold,
And kindness is the only hand we hold.

Let Them Talk

 

"Talkin' Bad" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

Let Them Talk

In every town and every street, where idle minds and shadows meet,
There lives a breed of restless soul, who makes the lives of others whole—
By picking at the fraying threads, by planting seeds in neighbors' heads,
By weaving webs of "did you hear?" and whispering in a willing ear.
They gather 'round the morning brew, with nothing better left to do,
Than catalog a stranger’s sin and let the weary games begin.

They watch the way you walk the road, they weigh the burdens of your load,
They measure out your every step, and count the secrets that you’ve kept.
With eagle eyes and sharpened tongues, they draw the air into their lungs,
To blow a spark into a flame, and tarnish every honest name.
For in their world of gray and small, they love to watch a giant fall,
To find a crack within the glass and watch the fleeting shadows pass.

It matters not if truth be told, for stories turn from lead to gold,
When polished by a bitter heart that’s mastered every cruel art.
They’ll take a word you said in jest and put it to a grueling test,
Until it looks like something dark, a jagged stone, a burning spark.
They judge the clothes upon your back, and find the virtues that you lack,
While sitting on a throne of straw, identifying every flaw.

What Is Trust?

"Trust" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

What Is Trust?

It is the invisible thread that binds,
The quiet peace a worried spirit finds,
A bridge of glass across a canyon deep,
A promise that the soul intends to keep.

It is not built of stone or steel or wood,
But forged in moments generally understood
To be the small, unnoticed, fleeting things—
The safety that a simple silence brings.

It is the hand you hold within the dark,
The kindling waiting for the crucial spark,
The knowledge that you need not check the lock,
The solid ground beneath the trembling rock.

Inclusion

 

 "Inclusion" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

Inclusion

In every room where people meet,
Where voices cross and glances greet,
There’s space to notice who’s not heard,
Whose quiet fades without a word.

Inclusion starts with simple things:
A widened door, a chair that swings,
A hand held out before it’s asked,
A shared load when the road is masked.

It’s choosing not to turn away
When someone moves a different way,
Or speaks with pauses in their tone,
Or stands apart but not alone.

It’s making room at every start
For those who carry unseen parts,
The weight of worry, fear, or doubt,
The stories they don’t hand right out.

There is Always Opposition

 

 "Opposition Tug-Of-War" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

 There is Always Opposition

No motion starts without a force,
No river runs a straight-line course,
For every step that you intend,
The universe will make you bend.
It is the law, ancient and deep,
That promises no easy sleep;
From atoms spinning in the void
To empires built and then destroyed,
In every breath and every plan,
In every heart of every man,
The truth remains, distinct and clear:
The Opposition is always here.

I. The Physical Weight

Observe the stone upon the hill,
It sits in silence, cold and still.
To move it requires strain and sweat,
A physical and heavy debt.
For Gravity, that jealous king,
Lays claim to every living thing.
It pulls us down, it holds us tight,
It creates the heavy, weary night.
To stand upright is to defy
The very earth, the very sky.
The friction on the moving wheel,
The rust that eats the strongest steel,
The wind that beats against the face—
Resistance fills all time and space.

There is no vacuum perfect, pure,
Where unstopped motion can endure.
The air itself is like a wall,
Waiting for the weak to fall.
But mark this truth within the gale:
Without the wind, no ship can sail.
The very force that stops the way
Is what allows the bird of prey
To catch the draft and soar on high,
To pin its wings against the sky.
The plane requires the drag to lift,
The opposition is the gift.

The Darkness of Xenophobia

"Alien Xenomorph" - Bahamas AI Art

 ©A. Derek Catalano

 

 

The Darkness of Xenophobia

 

A chilling fog that shrouds the open mind,
A baseless dread of those we fail to find
Familiar in their custom, speech, or creed,
This is the fear called Xenophobia, indeed.
It is the hatred born of ignorance,
The sudden shiver at a foreign glance.

The Definition and Its Roots

It is not simply bias or dislike,
But deep revulsion striking like a pike,
Against the stranger, alien, or new,
A desperate drawing up of walls by few.
It is a mechanism, harsh and crude,
That sees all difference as an ill-intent, construed
As menace to the safety of the known,
A seed of malice that the heart has sown.

Causes: The Seeds of Anxiety

The fear takes root where understanding's slight,
And thrives upon the absence of the light.
One cause is economic anxiety's strain,
The false belief that gain requires loss and pain.
A local culture fears its way of life,
Will be consumed within a global strife,
And turns upon the newcomer in need,
Mistaking fellow humans for a greed.

The rhetoric of politics provides the fuel,
When leaders preach exclusion as a rule.
They paint the "other" as a cunning foe,
Distorting facts to make the hatred grow.
A lack of contact seals the hardened case,
When no shared meal or laughter sets the pace;
The human face, behind the veil unseen,
Remains a monster on a distant screen.