A Creature Of Habit

A creature of habit, am I

Vodka, it is, sometimes wine

and so it is with most things in my life.

A scooter it is,

formal clothes to boot, 

a haircut of 10 years

and a barber even longer. 

A passion of 11 years

and dream for life.

A love for movies and fantasy

An escape from conflicts.

Never the same,

in love though.
The way to love.
A creature of habit, yet again.

To cultivate though

the habit of love, for one

stop the game of seek and fall

But, alas, its one habit

that seems to elude

yet again.

~ 25th July 2010

These are posts I wrote on a tissue sitting at a local bar in Prague in January 2010. 

Tlusta Koala

It is 11 pm

The night was young yet.

The choice was

My hostel room

or a drink at the bar

with myself and poetry.

I chose the latter

never to regret it

and to tell a tale 

yet another day.

I am at Tlusta Koala

Was here another night

with Indians, Brazilians and Egyptians

Today,

I come alone

with pen and tissue

and a lonely heart.

As the name goes, 

the place has many a Koala Bear

Big and Small,

Grey, Blue and Brown

making up its walls

and coasters too.

But otherwise,

its a regular pub

made special

by the Absolut Vodka

of my choice!

~ 25th July 2010

These are posts I wrote on a tissue sitting at a local bar in Prague in January 2010. 

Cities of Our Childhood

Prague, The city of timelessness

Where the past coexists with the present

attempts to embrace the future.

The museum of communism

is a museum alright

sharing this floor with a casino

while a Mcdonalds showcases a future

on the ground floor

all but overarching the museum

The buildings have history and character

holding many a gory past

but present a picture of legacy

for the ever-coming tourists

I watch many a man,

kneeling on the icy cold road

to beg for alms and food

and maybe some wine

for a cold wintery night

The churches seem empty

and so do the cathedrals and basilicas

standing tall and majestic

but humbled by nature

and the new face of humankind.

They appease the tourists
but not the old woman
groceries in one hand
and stick in another
negotiating
the icy cold winds, snows
and the muck of the city.

The city survives
with its charmed tourists
but its own children seldom enter its gates.

Two days in this city
has been a time for reflections
and contradictions too.

I no longer seem to enjoy the facade
shown to the ever-hungry tourist
camera in tow and borrowed smiles too.
Who see the sky and its majestic palaces
but don't wish to scratch the surface
to see the dark underbelly
a reflection of their own city
and soul.

The statues say more

than the people walking past

The statues say more

in their silence than

the clatter of chatter all over

I hear them cry to save our souls

before we decay

forever and ever more.

The statues say more!

This is not the city

she once knew

and wonders

will she ever find 

the city of her childhood?

A man asks if I want marijuana

another if I want a woman

some would say yes,

others hesitate but curious.

I walked away

scared and bewildered

curious still.

Its a city of loneliness, 

like many a big city

few smiles and even little compassion

its no different from my city

or any other that prides in being a city

with empty hearts and transient dreams

Everyone a nobody

attempting to be a somebody

I wonder

will we ever find

the city of our childhood

anywhere at all!

I wonder

Do we wish to find it?

As I conclude my journey

in this city of timelessness

I dread going back

to the city of my dreams

and my failures

~ 25th July 2010

These are posts I wrote on a tissue sitting at a local bar in Prague in January 2010. I had almost forgotten them till tonight I thought was a good night to resurrect them before they crumble into the lifeless life of the tissue. One part of me tells me to just let them fade away into the invisibility of the tissue and another part of me wants to eternalize them by capturing them here. I chose the later for some of them and tore away the rest. It was the combination of being alone in a new country and just having lost a loved one to the complexities of complex relationships that made me the writer this cold January evening in Prague. It was also maybe the romanticism of the city of Prague. Don't know.