The Boom Bangers

by Richard M. Ankers

(Author’s Note) As the poem explains, I’m a quiet one, but sometimes you just have to speak up. 

I fear the boom bangers
Though I’ve never met a one
I fear them with a passion
I fear them with an innate need
Their reputation precedes them
Though I’m unsure from where?
Across undulating landscapes rendered flat
And rivers turned to mud
Through puddles of crimson that ripple out forever
Through life itself
I fear the boom bangers
For I myself err towards quiet
They hurt my ears with their constant bombardments 
So loud as to be heard above riotous din
So loud as to drown out the rustling broadsheets
Never quiet and never ever still
Diurnal to the point of annoyance
Always hunting out those weaker than they
Suddenly absent when confronted
Bluster and phlegm a proviso 
I fear the boom bangers 
For theirs are bigger than ours
So they say, so they claim
So they shout from boom boxes
Maybe named after they
Not nuisances, but messiahs 
Not vandals with attitudes, but saviours with grace
Will they ever be silenced?
How I pray, how I dream
Of boom bangers, mouths closed

Image: Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

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