In The Demon's Head #151: Blast From The Past #7
August 6, 2013
Hello everyone, It's Tuesday. I don't know that you needed to be reminded of that but I figured I'd share the fact with you. It's a positive for two reasons: 1. We're closer to the weekend, and 2. It's time for another Blast from the Past post. This week I give you three more relics to check out. Let's get started.
August 6, 2013
Hello everyone, It's Tuesday. I don't know that you needed to be reminded of that but I figured I'd share the fact with you. It's a positive for two reasons: 1. We're closer to the weekend, and 2. It's time for another Blast from the Past post. This week I give you three more relics to check out. Let's get started.
At Knife Point
It was a family air loom,
Passed down from father,
To son,
But there’s something about,
This special blade,
This blade was made in the early 1700’s,
It was said to be cursed,
To control the man who wielded it,
But it was all urban legend,
That was until three generations ago,
My great grandfather received the knife,
On his 18th birthday,
All in life,
Was fine,
And the knife sat unused,
And in its case,
Until my grandfather found,
A man who robbed,
And beat grandma,
In the back alley,
Of a bar one night,
When he was 58,
The unlucky robber,
Found himself with 72 new holes,
That hadn’t been there that morning,
And my grandpa found his way into prison,
My dad was only 16,
Life went on,
And my dad,
Got the knife,
From my grandma,
On his 18th birthday,
She knew that dad wanted it,
And as odd as it was,
The blood still seemed fresh,
On the blade,
But it went back in its case,
And there it sat,
For another 30 Years,
This time my dad,
Was on the handled end,
Giving a man 23 new holes,
For looking at my mother,
The wrong way,
My dad,
Also found his way,
Into a jail cell,
At the time I was 17,
Shortly thereafter,
During a visit to the prison,
My dad gave me permission,
To get the knife,
When I was 18,
When I did,
I felt pride,
Fear,
And joy,
And now as it sits on the shelf,
I can hear the yells of the men,
Whose life were ended,
At the hands of my family,
And I can’t help but wonder,
When the voices,
Will start talking to me,
Begging me to follow in the footsteps,
Of my fathers’ before me,
I listen to the screams,
From the blood on the blade,
And feel the smile on my face,
Spread,
Knowing that my day,
Is coming soon,
About The Piece
The picture above just seems to look like a fancy knife. When I first saw it that’s exactly what I thought it was. Then I realized every fancy style anything has a story. I thought that I could take the knife and craft a story from it. I felt that it was a strange, yet strong story that was worth telling and in the end that’s all anyone can ask for when they write anything.
****
The Booth
It looked so normal against the backdrop,
Of the bustling city,
But when I stepped inside,
My entire world changed,
What they thought was an ordinary telephone booth,
Turned out to be a chance,
To jump,
In time,
I had no control of where it went,
But I found myself spun,
Out of control,
Until coming to a stop,
On a city street,
That looked a lot like the one,
I left behind,
Only this time,
Cars were dead on the sides of the road,
The bridges were crumbling,
And the world as a whole,
Was a dark shade of brown,
I could smell the death in the air,
And the sorrow in the skies,
What had happened here,
I walked slowly,
Looking for something,
That could tell me anything,
Or someone,
Who knew,
And that’s when I found the wall,
Written across the top,
“Lost In the End”
2077,
The wall was populated with names,
Of those that died,
It was then that I realized,
That the world,
Had come and gone,
In the flash of light,
There may be some survivors remaining,
But they were likely,
Few and far between,
I went back to the booth,
Only hoping that closing that door a second time,
Would send me back to my own time,
I held my breath,
And pulled,
As the world once again spun,
Around and Around,
Finally I touched down,
This time the city that I had left,
In 2013 was here,
Everyone going about their lives,
I couldn’t help but to believe,
That some of them would change their ways,
If they had seen what I had,
In the future
About The Piece
Some of these pictures are hard to find a story with. Others, much like this one, are simple. They’re stories seem to scream at me more then I find them. I was very pleased with how this piece turned out and I can only hope that the remaining pictures scream at me this way all week. Feel free to share your feedback or comments in the comments section.
****
The Bull
Every night when I sleep,
I feel the same presence,
The same energy,
Watching over me,
I’m not sure what it is that they want,
But I know they keep watching,
I had hoped that it would go away,
But it just keeps getting stronger,
Soon I think,
I’ll see his face,
And maybe then,
I’ll know what it is,
That they want,
I don’t understand,
Quite what’s going on,
But I’ll be happy when it’s over,
Until I’ll sleep uneasy,
With the bull looking over my shoulder,
About The Piece
It seems I’m setting extremes right and left. Earlier this week, or was it last week I can’t remember, I had the longest piece I’d done for this blog. Today I write the shortest piece that I’ve written in quite some time. I can only hope that you guys enjoy and followed it.
****
That's the entire set of pieces for this week. I hope that you enjoyed working through some memories, or maybe reading some new ones. Either way I'm glad I can get these shared with everyone.
Remember you can sign up for the mailing list on the right hand side of the blog. You'll receive a free subscription to this blog, as well as other free things. It's as simple as putting in your email address. You can also connect with me on a number of social channels, to pick your poison of choice, click here. Until the next time you want to take a trip through the gates of hell and into the demon's head, I'm Kyle Robinson wishing you a safe trip back to the surface.
It was a family air loom,
Passed down from father,
To son,
But there’s something about,
This special blade,
This blade was made in the early 1700’s,
It was said to be cursed,
To control the man who wielded it,
But it was all urban legend,
That was until three generations ago,
My great grandfather received the knife,
On his 18th birthday,
All in life,
Was fine,
And the knife sat unused,
And in its case,
Until my grandfather found,
A man who robbed,
And beat grandma,
In the back alley,
Of a bar one night,
When he was 58,
The unlucky robber,
Found himself with 72 new holes,
That hadn’t been there that morning,
And my grandpa found his way into prison,
My dad was only 16,
Life went on,
And my dad,
Got the knife,
From my grandma,
On his 18th birthday,
She knew that dad wanted it,
And as odd as it was,
The blood still seemed fresh,
On the blade,
But it went back in its case,
And there it sat,
For another 30 Years,
This time my dad,
Was on the handled end,
Giving a man 23 new holes,
For looking at my mother,
The wrong way,
My dad,
Also found his way,
Into a jail cell,
At the time I was 17,
Shortly thereafter,
During a visit to the prison,
My dad gave me permission,
To get the knife,
When I was 18,
When I did,
I felt pride,
Fear,
And joy,
And now as it sits on the shelf,
I can hear the yells of the men,
Whose life were ended,
At the hands of my family,
And I can’t help but wonder,
When the voices,
Will start talking to me,
Begging me to follow in the footsteps,
Of my fathers’ before me,
I listen to the screams,
From the blood on the blade,
And feel the smile on my face,
Spread,
Knowing that my day,
Is coming soon,
About The Piece
The picture above just seems to look like a fancy knife. When I first saw it that’s exactly what I thought it was. Then I realized every fancy style anything has a story. I thought that I could take the knife and craft a story from it. I felt that it was a strange, yet strong story that was worth telling and in the end that’s all anyone can ask for when they write anything.
****
The Booth
It looked so normal against the backdrop,
Of the bustling city,
But when I stepped inside,
My entire world changed,
What they thought was an ordinary telephone booth,
Turned out to be a chance,
To jump,
In time,
I had no control of where it went,
But I found myself spun,
Out of control,
Until coming to a stop,
On a city street,
That looked a lot like the one,
I left behind,
Only this time,
Cars were dead on the sides of the road,
The bridges were crumbling,
And the world as a whole,
Was a dark shade of brown,
I could smell the death in the air,
And the sorrow in the skies,
What had happened here,
I walked slowly,
Looking for something,
That could tell me anything,
Or someone,
Who knew,
And that’s when I found the wall,
Written across the top,
“Lost In the End”
2077,
The wall was populated with names,
Of those that died,
It was then that I realized,
That the world,
Had come and gone,
In the flash of light,
There may be some survivors remaining,
But they were likely,
Few and far between,
I went back to the booth,
Only hoping that closing that door a second time,
Would send me back to my own time,
I held my breath,
And pulled,
As the world once again spun,
Around and Around,
Finally I touched down,
This time the city that I had left,
In 2013 was here,
Everyone going about their lives,
I couldn’t help but to believe,
That some of them would change their ways,
If they had seen what I had,
In the future
About The Piece
Some of these pictures are hard to find a story with. Others, much like this one, are simple. They’re stories seem to scream at me more then I find them. I was very pleased with how this piece turned out and I can only hope that the remaining pictures scream at me this way all week. Feel free to share your feedback or comments in the comments section.
****
The Bull
Every night when I sleep,
I feel the same presence,
The same energy,
Watching over me,
I’m not sure what it is that they want,
But I know they keep watching,
I had hoped that it would go away,
But it just keeps getting stronger,
Soon I think,
I’ll see his face,
And maybe then,
I’ll know what it is,
That they want,
I don’t understand,
Quite what’s going on,
But I’ll be happy when it’s over,
Until I’ll sleep uneasy,
With the bull looking over my shoulder,
About The Piece
It seems I’m setting extremes right and left. Earlier this week, or was it last week I can’t remember, I had the longest piece I’d done for this blog. Today I write the shortest piece that I’ve written in quite some time. I can only hope that you guys enjoy and followed it.
****
That's the entire set of pieces for this week. I hope that you enjoyed working through some memories, or maybe reading some new ones. Either way I'm glad I can get these shared with everyone.
Remember you can sign up for the mailing list on the right hand side of the blog. You'll receive a free subscription to this blog, as well as other free things. It's as simple as putting in your email address. You can also connect with me on a number of social channels, to pick your poison of choice, click here. Until the next time you want to take a trip through the gates of hell and into the demon's head, I'm Kyle Robinson wishing you a safe trip back to the surface.