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.
urbansonnets 