35 years of living should have inured me, if not prepared me, for surviving this planet; but no matter how much of me gets spent, no matter how much of it becomes me, I will always be an outsider; like an innocent inside a prison.
Where might I be from? What am I here for? Am I an amnesic refugee? A spy? A wanderer who’s lost his lust? How can I not remember? What am I forgetting? Why am I an alien in my own land?
Saurin Desai’s first love led to a roaring affair that's ongoing now since nearly 30 years. At the innocent age of 8 he met a comic book that whacked him on the head (pun intended) and he fell heels-over-head, literally (pun not intended). But being commitment-phobic, he had a couple of dalliances: with engineering, jobs & businesses, before succumbing to the seduction of the writer's life and giving up everything to become lazier than he ever was. Through all of this he continued to rendezvous with poetry. And after one very, very, long pregnant pause, the poems that had owned him all these years recently agreed to stop possessing him and start haunting the world. And, here we are..."Solitude and Other Obsessions"
I was a high-ranking official In the United States Army; Any further details Would surely come back to harm me. I must remain anonymous Or else face the consequence; But you would not believe What — who — has come
The box clatters with every sway of the automobile, My tummy feels like metals crushing together, freezing my teeth, The glasses shaking nonstop, feels like hell, Everywhere we step is a death trap, dodging several holes, The chauffeur, all red