storm
remember how once a plague of rain
that came upon us like a host
of hooded riders threatened jostling
and threw us like a harried beast
upon its cold forged spears
its bully gusting hands that tore our eyes
and clawed our ragged clothing
thin and inappropriate
and this is how i feel
on dogged hectored nights
when unarmed for arguments
by intellect or education
or by dint of language
or just by will
the mortal words that left my lips were not equipped
to face the brunt of bombasts bombs
or badgering or browbeat braggadocio
but those arguments
in the auditorium
in which we revel the conscious mind
are relived like little plays of anger
striking words and winning small scenes
until they seem as real
as victories upon the very boards
in which they're lost
and ringing with the accolades
of enlightened audience
how sad that this is merely feeling