Old School Sonnets, vol. 3

Alright. This isn't truly "old school," since it's less than a year old, but I have no other place to place sonnets written out of the sequence that we have going here. I wrote this on the lovely island of St. Maarten, birthplace and current home of my father:

Post-Colonial Feel (Sonnet)

 When the shit hits the fan, I know to go

Away from culture, that’s really capture.

They truly cannibalized our ego

-collectively rejected from the snare

Of occidental effects; accidents

Do happen—privileges are affected

By those with market minds; usurer’s bench

Seems noble in contrast to men who fed

 On flesh and faith, of flesh and the fates

Of a million ocean souls, floating through

A living too steeped in giving, staunched in

Blood and the salty seas of tears, or breaks

On sea and on skin, on me and on him

The stigma sticks to her

                                                -but not to you.

 

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