[CENTER][I][font="Palatino Linotype"][size="4"]We're catching ships in the Rye[/SIZE][/FONT]

The vibrations started early this morning...
and the humming, birds of yore.
Paving their way through the docks.[/I][/CENTER]

Were you to believe those nights, you fell asleep without dreaming it first?
And the machines that kept racketing outside your bedroom window, you would hate
but eventually, one after another coupled with a tracing hum.
You'd drift.
[RIGHT]The flight of this time would eventually reach itself, past cities, past everywhere and the speed
of light time
And you'd find yourself around again as if bestrewed, somewhere. Torching a heaven’s light as above, watching
the maddening faces of the people frantically putting the fires out. Terrorized, to what its foreignity its unearthly presence upon them..

and it all seemed so harmless in a way a dream...
yet misunderstood, of course. Until, they’d shun you forever.[/RIGHT]

[color="DimGray"][size="1"][I]was it real?[/I].......[/SIZE]....               . .    .. .[/COLOR]

                [I]Some experiences can't be described, but I was running.
The jackals light gloating over me, through the fields

                                                                          a humming in the midst of dead mountains.[/I] 

As if "heat sources" the newspapers would describe it; "The bodies where found
vaporized inside out without any logical explanation what so ever, to what end these hikers died of, for it is believed that the mountains was always haunted"[/RIGHT] 
                           no witnesses,                  
                                                       neither footprints but them                 
                                                                                                 and the emptiness that would follow,     
                                                                                                                                                   to no end...

To put up these foreign flyers; [font="Impact"]We’re catching ships in the Rye![/FONT]
You would start to think "am I saviour of some extraterrestrial kind?"

Following the events like some cult, you'd see them, praying on top of their boxes 
inesculent to form any reason whilst listening to the tiniest frequencies, yet to no prevail.
And in their falsed sense of perception, to not even realise...

[I]They're the ones dreaming away...in a fiery of celestial display.[/I]
Last edited by Eccer at Oct 19, 2015,
Does it actually reference Catcher in the Rye in any way... I have never read it nor do I know what it is about either. I just don't seem to be grasping what the "dream" actually is describing. To me, it feels like you are referencing something (likely the book) in some way that is over my head.

That being said, I find this to be a rather beautiful poem. It has nice diction and I like how you pull the humming back into the equation later on.

Also... What is the Code you are using and what is it doing? I posted a poem recently called Overplayed... And I cannot get it to replicate the spacing in my word doc at all.
Last edited by 21wickwing at Apr 10, 2014,
This was a good read, you've definitely created an airy dreamlike feel. This is difficult to critique usefully: I think the only thing I'd suggest is including a bit more space after "stops.", I know it's a bit of an obvious choice but I think it's the right one.

It was nice reading you again.