Post by Extinction on Apr 30, 2017 23:06:13 GMT -5
“O Frost, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food.”
my soul thirsts for you;
my flesh faints for you,
as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,
beholding your power and glory.
Because your steadfast love is better than life,
my lips will praise you.
So I will bless you as long as I live;
in your name I will lift up my hands.
My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food.”
-Ryan Dusk
Loneliness, Hopelessness, Joy, Addiction, Ambition, Forgiveness, Enlightenment, Redemption, Resolve, Absolution, Peace of Mind, Persecution and Salvation. Just some of the reasons why people seek God.
I never sought him out.
I didn’t need his love in my life.
I certainly didn’t need to pledge my faith for him.
Don’t get it twisted though I certainly wanted God.
I wanted to HUNT God.
The Gathering Turmoil of One’s Soul for Gold
Look at them standing there in authority
The pale-faces,
As if it could have any effect any more.
Pale-face authority,
Caryatids,
Pillars of white bronze standing rigid, lest the skies fall.
What a job they've got to keep it up.
Their poor, idealist foreheads naked capitals
To the entablature of clouded heaven.
When the skies are going to fall, fall they will
In a great chute and rush of d?b?cle downwards.
Oh and I wish the high and super-gothic heavens would come down now,
The heavens above, that we yearn to and aspire to.
I do not yearn, nor aspire, for I am a blind Samson.
And what is daylight to me that I should look skyward?
Only I grope among you, pale-faces, caryatids, as among a forest of pillars that hold up the dome of high ideal heaven
Which is my prison,
And all these human pillars of loftiness, going stiff, metallic-stunned with the weight of their responsibility
I stumble against them.
Stumbling-blocks, painful ones.
To keep on holding up this ideal civilisation
Must be excruciating: unless you stiffen into metal, when it is easier to stand stock rigid than to move.
This is why I tug at them, individually, with my arm round their waist
The human pillars.
They are not stronger than I am, blind Samson.
The house sways.
I shall be so glad when it comes down.
I am so tired of the limitations of their Infinite.
I am so sick of the pretensions of the Spirit.
I am so weary of pale-face importance.
Am I not blind, at the round-turning mill?
Then why should I fear their pale faces?
Or love the effulgence of their holy light,
The sun of their righteousness?
To me, all faces are dark,
All lips are dusky and valved.
Save your lips, O pale-faces,
Which are slips of metal,
Like slits in an automatic-machine, you columns of give-and-take.
To me, the earth rolls ponderously, superbly
Coming my way without forethought or afterthought.
To me, men's footfalls fall with a dull, soft rumble, ominous and lovely,
Coming my way.
But not your foot-falls, pale-faces,
They are a clicketing of bits of disjointed metal
Working in motion.
To me, men are palpable, invisible nearnesses in the dark
Sending out magnetic vibrations of warning, pitch-dark throbs of invitation.
But you, pale-faces,
You are painful, harsh-surfaced pillars that give off nothing except rigidity,
And I jut against you if I try to move, for you are everywhere, and I am blind,
Sightless among all your visuality,
You staring caryatids.
See if I don't bring you down, and all your high opinion
And all your ponderous roofed-in erection of right and wrong
Your particular heavens,
With a smash.
See if your skies aren't falling!
And my head, at least, is thick enough to stand it, the smash.
See if I don't move under a dark and nude, vast heaven
When your world is in ruins, under your fallen skies.
Caryatids, pale-faces.
See if I am not Lord of the dark and moving hosts
Before I die.
Frost said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled”
What does it mean to be filled by God? It begins with hunger.
I’ve been praying before, and suddenly, everything disappeared. All that mattered was what he said, what he promised. All that mattered was what he did, what he was doing. All that mattered was God. I was at once like the dark, barren world before it was made, still formless and empty and void which ultimately leads into madness and the world of miracles……..
The first thing you will notice is the pungent smell of dead rotting flesh, from all of your fallen comrades and enemies. The cool wind that blows around you doesn't seem to help to get rid of the disgusting smell, in fact, it brings in additional smells: smells of dust, smoke and blood from the surrounding area. These smells bring in feelings of anxiousness and nervousness as you have no idea if you are the next target, will you be joining those already scattered on the ground in pieces after the next massive explosion.
As you venture further into the mayhem the screams and shouts from nearby rotting corpses gets progressively louder. Gunshots and explosions are sounding closer as you continue creeping further into depths of hell. Debris from explosions are landing closer and closer around you. You finally reach a friendly face who quickly pulls you down to the ground by your shoulder just as a bullet flies over your head ricocheting off the tree several meters behind you. As you start to move from the ground to a nearby cover dodging bullets and grenades the adrenaline you have been waiting for to kick in has finally decided to take part, making your senses more aware than before and speeding everything up giving you the strength to continue and allowing you to forget about the foul taste of dirt and the half destroyed cigarette in your mouth.
Since day one, since the beginnings of this EXTINCTION Ryan and I we have been HIS messengers, HIS horsemen and most of all we have been HIS instruments of absolute destruction. But the time for the extinction is finally drawing to an end; the cities of sin have finally been toppled. Left in OUR wake is nothing but rumble and the worthless rats that scurry through its remains thinking they will be spared the coming suffering, they will be salivating as salivation will be far out of reach because they will have been crushed, their bones a simple dusting over the scorched remains of the earth. Much like the Turmoil that awaits come WrestleWar’s. So we will crush those repulsive rats from the Dancing Dudes, the New People’s System, the Killer’s and every other worthless tag team you wish to throw into the lion’s den. We will NOT fill up on the unworthy, instead we will use their skulls as cups, their bones as forks and use their blood to marinade the much bigger, succulent and worthy tag teams that wait. This buffet of brutality only begins after we clear the table of scraps not even the dogs would eat.
You find cover and cower in fear hiding like a small scared child, the sounds of machine guns and explosives are all around you; You are terrified, even the adrenaline rush is not enough to calm you down. As you look up, you notice the shiny, metallic bullet shells, freshly spewed blood, body parts and debris splattered all over the ground. An unknown friendly soldier collapses as his head was just blown off by an enemy sniper in the distance.
His M16 with a fully loaded magazine is within your reach; you grab the weapon's cold, metallic, handle getting ready to spring up, aim down the sight and kill the first enemy you spot. You get up and start shooting like a rookie in training, spraying bullets everywhere. While you are shooting this gun you notice the spent bullet casings ejecting out of the chamber and landing on the ground next to you. The soft metallic clinging sound and the smell of gunpowder overpowers your nose, distracting you from important matters at hand and then a THUD!
Hear that? That SUDDEN STOP? That’s what comes after the fall which of course isn’t what kills you but the landing does. That same principal is applied to careers just as well as lives. And two careers’ certainly in that free fall belongs to the WGWF’s own walking dead duo of Chris Page and HUNTER. I gotta ask though if Hunter falls off the card will his career even make a sound? I mean you have to show up to make a sound. Doesn’t matter really since I’ve actually never been interested in eating road kill despite my savage tastes I must draw the line somewhere and since Hunter your family lineage includes the mental retardation of the human race in your brother Nick, well I nor Kenneth nor God himself want any retards in the gene pool so I’ll pass on eating whatever part of you shows up Monday. However you are still a fatten calf, a hall of fame calf come home to the slaughter house to pay for the crime of pride all those years ago when God went out of his way to not only free you from a worthless and loveless shame of a marriage but he also strapped that rocket on your back and propelled you into legendary status and all you’ve done since was spew that same bull shit the rest of those blasphemer’s dare to utter except while they roll around in their ignorance like a pig in shit Hunter something tells me you don’t like to roll around in shit, that’s why you dropped the last name right?
Be that as it may Hunter despite the lies you try to tell yourself about HIM and despite the fact we’ve already whipped your ass on more than ONE occasion I’ll walk down to that ring on Monday and make sure I wear my “Beat the Meat” apron and allow my fists to draw the blood of envy which will tickle my taste buds with a tease of what you could have been, although I’m sure the dogs will enjoy this brand of mincemeat I’ll make you into without much of a fight if any at all because while God tried to set you free all those years ago you’ve allowed yourself to grow fat and lazy, the sin of sloth smother’s you well like a sour BBQ sauce your still bitter about this idea of teaming with a Toker who’s done nothing but fail you time and time again. Monday will be no different although cooking with pot excites me after all maybe I’ll be high enough to actually feat upon your partner maybe those “munchies” would even allow me to care about the Dancing Dudes. Probably not but you Page, you’ve already been feasted upon there’s nothing left to prove by beating you since you’ve already been beaten enough times your bones might be worth keeping. A rich stock of TCH could be boiled from your limbs and maybe even your silver tongue would make a good stewing meat. What a sweet sound it would be to never have to hear you run your mouth against God himself ever again, although that time is coming soon enough. It would be a wonderful achievement to pickle your tongue and display it in a jar with the caption “He finally SHUT UP” written under it and deliver it to our God, although severing a pickled Page tongue in a coleslaw to be laid over the roasted lamb of Slater…..NOW that’s sounds like a meal fit for the beginnings of heaven itself.
Basically Page you’ve earned yourself a spot on the menu the day after WrestleWar’s, the day after in which the faithful will celebrate the seconding coming and take part in a feast in which you’ll actually contribute to the future of HIS federation in a positive way, either I have a feeling that it will be EFP….Extinction…Fired Page….yummmm….yummm….finger licking good.
Realizing you have been shot you drop to the ground behind the cover. You look over to your left shoulder and see where the bullet hit you. You feel the warm blood that starts running down your arm and see the bullet still imbedded into your shoulder. The pain is so unbearable that you start screaming and shouting for a medic to come and rescue you; Hearing your screams he rushes over to your side and pulls you to a safer location. He then examines your shoulder, pulling out the bullet with a pair of pliers as you begin to fall unconscious from the blood loss.
Before you are completely unconscious and as the gunfire comes to a rest you hear the sound of the helicopters landing nearby and collecting all the wounded soldiers, including yourself. You later awake and notice that you are in a helicopter 10,000 feet up in the air, the cool wind blows over your blood covered body…..as if God himself tends to your wounds through faith and touch. The blood and body of Christ will feed all and leave no one hungry or ill, I closed my eye and then slowly and surely there was activity, wind swooshing over water, the Spirit of God. Then a voice and then light and the judgment of goodness; not empty anymore. God filled me, and I could breathe. I came into a sacred closeness with God and needed to discover him although I had already known him for quite some time. It seemed to be a period of open heavens, and I wanted to swim in it and savor it. Oh how sweet it was, the sweet presence of God.
Now I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse. And He who sat on him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and makes war.
His eyes were like a flame of fire, and on His head were many crowns. He had a name written that no one knew except Himself.
He was clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God.
And the armies in heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and clean, followed Him on white horses.
Now out of His mouth goes a sharp sword, that with it He should strike the nations. And He Himself will rule them with a rod of iron. He Himself treads the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God.
And He has on His robe and on His thigh a name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.
Frost comes to make war on Slater, and the rest,
the False Prophet, and the kings of the earth.
When this war with Satan is over,
Frost becomes the absolute ruler of the earth.
"I who speak in righteousness, mighty to save."
My apparel is red and my fellow horsemen’s garments are like one who treads in the winepress?
"I haven’t trodden the winepress alone,
And from the peoples he was always with Me.
For we have trodden them in OUR anger and trampled them in OUR fury;
Their blood is sprinkled upon OUR garments, and I have stained all OUR robes.
For the day of vengeance is in OUR hearts, and the year of HIS redemption has come.
I was never one for gardens, Kenneth though look at him. His hair fluttering in the wind as he stands there and his poetry follows like a river quenching those followers thirst as if he truly were the man behind the word of God. Of course he wasn’t but he did recite it well whatever it took to keep them happy as I made sure the feast was to be prepared. I was wrong all those months ago it wasn’t the hunt that brought me to him but my hunger, I let my hunger lead me instead and he found me. He stood there upon that mountain top quietly he waited and then offered a hand to help me up and waiting was a feast….a feast of my favorite’s….nothing was missing….I sat down without an invitation and this hunger swelled deep within my soul and commanded me to begin to eat but half way through he had yet to speak to me and I was too busy eating but I never felt full. I looked up and asked him if he wanted any. He smiled. Used my shoulder to lean on as he sat down. Pointing towards the steak I cut him off a hunk and gave it to him. I was full. He said thank you and I became full. Amazed I asked how any of this is possible. He replied now his words not important but the passion and persistence in which is spoke reminded me of my farther talking about hunting, that was my passion and I got it from my farther with his words. He and my father were the same so I picked up his passion, I became a horsemen.
I stood up and offer my hand and he took it and told me where I had walked to, it wasn’t that I lost my way. He said he’s been watching me from on this spot since the beginning and that I had never looked up to spot him. All I need to do was look and I would find all of life’s answers and more importantly he said I would feast upon ALL of life’s bounties. That’s when I looked over to see we had been on his grazing property all this time, rows upon rows of steak or soon to be steak roamed the land. He saw me smile and said…..
“And he gave the faithful dominion over all the land and the animals that would feed them for eternity”
I agreed with the terms, although I never knew him to be anything but serious and sinister he stood there and told me of an old joke about the two bulls on top of the hill and the cows down below? The young bull wants to run down and fuck one. And the old bull says, "Let's walk on down and fuck 'em all. " That has been repeated so many times in movies, TV shows. It's taken as received wisdom, except the thing is you can't. Nobody gets to fuck 'em all. You got to choose which one you're gonna fuck, and then fuck her good.
After he told me that story I chuckled and said that version isn’t the one I tell. He asked me to tell mine, I said everything’s the same except after the old bull says you gotta choose one to fuck. I or in this case the younger bull said alright and began walking. The old bull said you’re going the wrong way, the younger bull replied no I’m going down to the farmer house, kill the farmer and FUCK his wife so all those cows will be mine long enough so that I can fuck them all.
Now we move onto the gold standard….FOOLS GOLD that is….even Tristan Slater stole his gold from God whereas the two of you, the DVC either knocked over a Dollar Rama or sent away box tops from a cereal box for those cheap championships that sparkle like a child’s cheap ass Halloween costume basically tin foil spray painted gold. In this case though much like your act the pain is finally peeling away and no longer are you both looked at as something special instead your view as that kind of special kind of crap after a big meal. Like a turkey for instance oh yeah people love turkey, they wait for it every year, it’s roasted to perfection, then they eat and eat and eat. Shoving that bird down their mouths in an act of pure and utter disgust, like they’ll never eat again until finally after picking the carcass clean they find that the bird was dry and tasteless. It puts them to sleep until there able to shit it out and that’s what needs happen here, this division for one brief second before it falls by the hands of God and his horsemen will need one LAST shining moment OUR moments when we finally shit out a pair of turds that have lasted far too long to still be anything but pieces of shit. In this case bitter pieces of shit, abandoned by a false leader, left to turn those worthless unwashed and unfaithful masses thinking their your salivation that they’ll enjoy bathing in that same shit that Slater spews upon them? It doesn’t matter you’ve already lost title or no title the coming Extinction cannot and will not be stopped no matter how many times you shout at God Connolly he just doesn’t care about a piece of shit. So he’s sent us to finally flush the bowl and send you down with all the rest of waste of this place. Enjoy the ride it’s going to be a painful one.
Ignore my partner Connolly while he does speak the truth about God almighty and the fact that your partner is just about as useful as singing coach to Steven Hawkins. I. I see great promise in you C2 a Hall of Fame Pheasant just perfect for the plucking. I can see it now Christian, you know by the way they used to feed Christian’s to the lions with thousands upon thousands watching with glee and fright. Well the more things change as they say the more they stay the same. Like now, between us the lions your about to be fed to that and my mother’s recipe for pheasant. It takes time but you’ve had enough too, a Pheasant was once considered a poor man’s meal. Such as yourself considered the poor man’s T-Money on your best day as I’ve heard the Lord say time and time again but you’ve found your stride just as HIS time is coming and there would be nothing more sweeter than sipping on the blood of a whiner such as yourself on that day of glory when ALL gold will once again belong to God including yours that will become OUR’S and melted down to become HIS silver wear in order to eat your flesh, that fall off the bone flesh of a Pheasant who’s passion against God himself was turned into a meal for HIM, his faithful and the Warrior King. Oh Christian what fun will all have in the lion’s den in fact I’ve even included a sample of music to help ease the tension we don't want your juices to run dry when our teeth cut into your flesh now do we? This song is for you and the rest of those worthless masses to finally understand that in Frost’s world you are all nothing but LOSER’S….wonderful cooked LOSER’S but looser none the less that will feed the kingdom of heaven for all time.
I have never heard a man or God laugh as he did it seemed like forever but eventually it subsided but that smile. He took his arm and draped it over my shoulder to which I instantly felt a comfort not since my own father held me the same way as he turned to me and said as we made our way down towards HIS house……
“Maybe in the end, you're the one guy that does get to fuck 'em all.”
I never sought him out.
I didn’t need his love in my life.
I certainly didn’t need to pledge my faith for him.
Don’t get it twisted though I certainly wanted God.
I wanted to HUNT God.
The Gathering Turmoil of One’s Soul for Gold
Look at them standing there in authority
The pale-faces,
As if it could have any effect any more.
Pale-face authority,
Caryatids,
Pillars of white bronze standing rigid, lest the skies fall.
What a job they've got to keep it up.
Their poor, idealist foreheads naked capitals
To the entablature of clouded heaven.
When the skies are going to fall, fall they will
In a great chute and rush of d?b?cle downwards.
Oh and I wish the high and super-gothic heavens would come down now,
The heavens above, that we yearn to and aspire to.
I do not yearn, nor aspire, for I am a blind Samson.
And what is daylight to me that I should look skyward?
Only I grope among you, pale-faces, caryatids, as among a forest of pillars that hold up the dome of high ideal heaven
Which is my prison,
And all these human pillars of loftiness, going stiff, metallic-stunned with the weight of their responsibility
I stumble against them.
Stumbling-blocks, painful ones.
To keep on holding up this ideal civilisation
Must be excruciating: unless you stiffen into metal, when it is easier to stand stock rigid than to move.
This is why I tug at them, individually, with my arm round their waist
The human pillars.
They are not stronger than I am, blind Samson.
The house sways.
I shall be so glad when it comes down.
I am so tired of the limitations of their Infinite.
I am so sick of the pretensions of the Spirit.
I am so weary of pale-face importance.
Am I not blind, at the round-turning mill?
Then why should I fear their pale faces?
Or love the effulgence of their holy light,
The sun of their righteousness?
To me, all faces are dark,
All lips are dusky and valved.
Save your lips, O pale-faces,
Which are slips of metal,
Like slits in an automatic-machine, you columns of give-and-take.
To me, the earth rolls ponderously, superbly
Coming my way without forethought or afterthought.
To me, men's footfalls fall with a dull, soft rumble, ominous and lovely,
Coming my way.
But not your foot-falls, pale-faces,
They are a clicketing of bits of disjointed metal
Working in motion.
To me, men are palpable, invisible nearnesses in the dark
Sending out magnetic vibrations of warning, pitch-dark throbs of invitation.
But you, pale-faces,
You are painful, harsh-surfaced pillars that give off nothing except rigidity,
And I jut against you if I try to move, for you are everywhere, and I am blind,
Sightless among all your visuality,
You staring caryatids.
See if I don't bring you down, and all your high opinion
And all your ponderous roofed-in erection of right and wrong
Your particular heavens,
With a smash.
See if your skies aren't falling!
And my head, at least, is thick enough to stand it, the smash.
See if I don't move under a dark and nude, vast heaven
When your world is in ruins, under your fallen skies.
Caryatids, pale-faces.
See if I am not Lord of the dark and moving hosts
Before I die.
Frost said, “Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they will be filled”
What does it mean to be filled by God? It begins with hunger.
I’ve been praying before, and suddenly, everything disappeared. All that mattered was what he said, what he promised. All that mattered was what he did, what he was doing. All that mattered was God. I was at once like the dark, barren world before it was made, still formless and empty and void which ultimately leads into madness and the world of miracles……..
The first thing you will notice is the pungent smell of dead rotting flesh, from all of your fallen comrades and enemies. The cool wind that blows around you doesn't seem to help to get rid of the disgusting smell, in fact, it brings in additional smells: smells of dust, smoke and blood from the surrounding area. These smells bring in feelings of anxiousness and nervousness as you have no idea if you are the next target, will you be joining those already scattered on the ground in pieces after the next massive explosion.
As you venture further into the mayhem the screams and shouts from nearby rotting corpses gets progressively louder. Gunshots and explosions are sounding closer as you continue creeping further into depths of hell. Debris from explosions are landing closer and closer around you. You finally reach a friendly face who quickly pulls you down to the ground by your shoulder just as a bullet flies over your head ricocheting off the tree several meters behind you. As you start to move from the ground to a nearby cover dodging bullets and grenades the adrenaline you have been waiting for to kick in has finally decided to take part, making your senses more aware than before and speeding everything up giving you the strength to continue and allowing you to forget about the foul taste of dirt and the half destroyed cigarette in your mouth.
Since day one, since the beginnings of this EXTINCTION Ryan and I we have been HIS messengers, HIS horsemen and most of all we have been HIS instruments of absolute destruction. But the time for the extinction is finally drawing to an end; the cities of sin have finally been toppled. Left in OUR wake is nothing but rumble and the worthless rats that scurry through its remains thinking they will be spared the coming suffering, they will be salivating as salivation will be far out of reach because they will have been crushed, their bones a simple dusting over the scorched remains of the earth. Much like the Turmoil that awaits come WrestleWar’s. So we will crush those repulsive rats from the Dancing Dudes, the New People’s System, the Killer’s and every other worthless tag team you wish to throw into the lion’s den. We will NOT fill up on the unworthy, instead we will use their skulls as cups, their bones as forks and use their blood to marinade the much bigger, succulent and worthy tag teams that wait. This buffet of brutality only begins after we clear the table of scraps not even the dogs would eat.
You find cover and cower in fear hiding like a small scared child, the sounds of machine guns and explosives are all around you; You are terrified, even the adrenaline rush is not enough to calm you down. As you look up, you notice the shiny, metallic bullet shells, freshly spewed blood, body parts and debris splattered all over the ground. An unknown friendly soldier collapses as his head was just blown off by an enemy sniper in the distance.
His M16 with a fully loaded magazine is within your reach; you grab the weapon's cold, metallic, handle getting ready to spring up, aim down the sight and kill the first enemy you spot. You get up and start shooting like a rookie in training, spraying bullets everywhere. While you are shooting this gun you notice the spent bullet casings ejecting out of the chamber and landing on the ground next to you. The soft metallic clinging sound and the smell of gunpowder overpowers your nose, distracting you from important matters at hand and then a THUD!
Hear that? That SUDDEN STOP? That’s what comes after the fall which of course isn’t what kills you but the landing does. That same principal is applied to careers just as well as lives. And two careers’ certainly in that free fall belongs to the WGWF’s own walking dead duo of Chris Page and HUNTER. I gotta ask though if Hunter falls off the card will his career even make a sound? I mean you have to show up to make a sound. Doesn’t matter really since I’ve actually never been interested in eating road kill despite my savage tastes I must draw the line somewhere and since Hunter your family lineage includes the mental retardation of the human race in your brother Nick, well I nor Kenneth nor God himself want any retards in the gene pool so I’ll pass on eating whatever part of you shows up Monday. However you are still a fatten calf, a hall of fame calf come home to the slaughter house to pay for the crime of pride all those years ago when God went out of his way to not only free you from a worthless and loveless shame of a marriage but he also strapped that rocket on your back and propelled you into legendary status and all you’ve done since was spew that same bull shit the rest of those blasphemer’s dare to utter except while they roll around in their ignorance like a pig in shit Hunter something tells me you don’t like to roll around in shit, that’s why you dropped the last name right?
Be that as it may Hunter despite the lies you try to tell yourself about HIM and despite the fact we’ve already whipped your ass on more than ONE occasion I’ll walk down to that ring on Monday and make sure I wear my “Beat the Meat” apron and allow my fists to draw the blood of envy which will tickle my taste buds with a tease of what you could have been, although I’m sure the dogs will enjoy this brand of mincemeat I’ll make you into without much of a fight if any at all because while God tried to set you free all those years ago you’ve allowed yourself to grow fat and lazy, the sin of sloth smother’s you well like a sour BBQ sauce your still bitter about this idea of teaming with a Toker who’s done nothing but fail you time and time again. Monday will be no different although cooking with pot excites me after all maybe I’ll be high enough to actually feat upon your partner maybe those “munchies” would even allow me to care about the Dancing Dudes. Probably not but you Page, you’ve already been feasted upon there’s nothing left to prove by beating you since you’ve already been beaten enough times your bones might be worth keeping. A rich stock of TCH could be boiled from your limbs and maybe even your silver tongue would make a good stewing meat. What a sweet sound it would be to never have to hear you run your mouth against God himself ever again, although that time is coming soon enough. It would be a wonderful achievement to pickle your tongue and display it in a jar with the caption “He finally SHUT UP” written under it and deliver it to our God, although severing a pickled Page tongue in a coleslaw to be laid over the roasted lamb of Slater…..NOW that’s sounds like a meal fit for the beginnings of heaven itself.
Basically Page you’ve earned yourself a spot on the menu the day after WrestleWar’s, the day after in which the faithful will celebrate the seconding coming and take part in a feast in which you’ll actually contribute to the future of HIS federation in a positive way, either I have a feeling that it will be EFP….Extinction…Fired Page….yummmm….yummm….finger licking good.
Realizing you have been shot you drop to the ground behind the cover. You look over to your left shoulder and see where the bullet hit you. You feel the warm blood that starts running down your arm and see the bullet still imbedded into your shoulder. The pain is so unbearable that you start screaming and shouting for a medic to come and rescue you; Hearing your screams he rushes over to your side and pulls you to a safer location. He then examines your shoulder, pulling out the bullet with a pair of pliers as you begin to fall unconscious from the blood loss.
Before you are completely unconscious and as the gunfire comes to a rest you hear the sound of the helicopters landing nearby and collecting all the wounded soldiers, including yourself. You later awake and notice that you are in a helicopter 10,000 feet up in the air, the cool wind blows over your blood covered body…..as if God himself tends to your wounds through faith and touch. The blood and body of Christ will feed all and leave no one hungry or ill, I closed my eye and then slowly and surely there was activity, wind swooshing over water, the Spirit of God. Then a voice and then light and the judgment of goodness; not empty anymore. God filled me, and I could breathe. I came into a sacred closeness with God and needed to discover him although I had already known him for quite some time. It seemed to be a period of open heavens, and I wanted to swim in it and savor it. Oh how sweet it was, the sweet presence of God.
Now I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse. And He who sat on him was called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and makes war.
His eyes were like a flame of fire, and on His head were many crowns. He had a name written that no one knew except Himself.
He was clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God.
And the armies in heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and clean, followed Him on white horses.
Now out of His mouth goes a sharp sword, that with it He should strike the nations. And He Himself will rule them with a rod of iron. He Himself treads the winepress of the fierceness and wrath of Almighty God.
And He has on His robe and on His thigh a name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS.
Frost comes to make war on Slater, and the rest,
the False Prophet, and the kings of the earth.
When this war with Satan is over,
Frost becomes the absolute ruler of the earth.
"I who speak in righteousness, mighty to save."
My apparel is red and my fellow horsemen’s garments are like one who treads in the winepress?
"I haven’t trodden the winepress alone,
And from the peoples he was always with Me.
For we have trodden them in OUR anger and trampled them in OUR fury;
Their blood is sprinkled upon OUR garments, and I have stained all OUR robes.
For the day of vengeance is in OUR hearts, and the year of HIS redemption has come.
I was never one for gardens, Kenneth though look at him. His hair fluttering in the wind as he stands there and his poetry follows like a river quenching those followers thirst as if he truly were the man behind the word of God. Of course he wasn’t but he did recite it well whatever it took to keep them happy as I made sure the feast was to be prepared. I was wrong all those months ago it wasn’t the hunt that brought me to him but my hunger, I let my hunger lead me instead and he found me. He stood there upon that mountain top quietly he waited and then offered a hand to help me up and waiting was a feast….a feast of my favorite’s….nothing was missing….I sat down without an invitation and this hunger swelled deep within my soul and commanded me to begin to eat but half way through he had yet to speak to me and I was too busy eating but I never felt full. I looked up and asked him if he wanted any. He smiled. Used my shoulder to lean on as he sat down. Pointing towards the steak I cut him off a hunk and gave it to him. I was full. He said thank you and I became full. Amazed I asked how any of this is possible. He replied now his words not important but the passion and persistence in which is spoke reminded me of my farther talking about hunting, that was my passion and I got it from my farther with his words. He and my father were the same so I picked up his passion, I became a horsemen.
I stood up and offer my hand and he took it and told me where I had walked to, it wasn’t that I lost my way. He said he’s been watching me from on this spot since the beginning and that I had never looked up to spot him. All I need to do was look and I would find all of life’s answers and more importantly he said I would feast upon ALL of life’s bounties. That’s when I looked over to see we had been on his grazing property all this time, rows upon rows of steak or soon to be steak roamed the land. He saw me smile and said…..
“And he gave the faithful dominion over all the land and the animals that would feed them for eternity”
I agreed with the terms, although I never knew him to be anything but serious and sinister he stood there and told me of an old joke about the two bulls on top of the hill and the cows down below? The young bull wants to run down and fuck one. And the old bull says, "Let's walk on down and fuck 'em all. " That has been repeated so many times in movies, TV shows. It's taken as received wisdom, except the thing is you can't. Nobody gets to fuck 'em all. You got to choose which one you're gonna fuck, and then fuck her good.
After he told me that story I chuckled and said that version isn’t the one I tell. He asked me to tell mine, I said everything’s the same except after the old bull says you gotta choose one to fuck. I or in this case the younger bull said alright and began walking. The old bull said you’re going the wrong way, the younger bull replied no I’m going down to the farmer house, kill the farmer and FUCK his wife so all those cows will be mine long enough so that I can fuck them all.
Now we move onto the gold standard….FOOLS GOLD that is….even Tristan Slater stole his gold from God whereas the two of you, the DVC either knocked over a Dollar Rama or sent away box tops from a cereal box for those cheap championships that sparkle like a child’s cheap ass Halloween costume basically tin foil spray painted gold. In this case though much like your act the pain is finally peeling away and no longer are you both looked at as something special instead your view as that kind of special kind of crap after a big meal. Like a turkey for instance oh yeah people love turkey, they wait for it every year, it’s roasted to perfection, then they eat and eat and eat. Shoving that bird down their mouths in an act of pure and utter disgust, like they’ll never eat again until finally after picking the carcass clean they find that the bird was dry and tasteless. It puts them to sleep until there able to shit it out and that’s what needs happen here, this division for one brief second before it falls by the hands of God and his horsemen will need one LAST shining moment OUR moments when we finally shit out a pair of turds that have lasted far too long to still be anything but pieces of shit. In this case bitter pieces of shit, abandoned by a false leader, left to turn those worthless unwashed and unfaithful masses thinking their your salivation that they’ll enjoy bathing in that same shit that Slater spews upon them? It doesn’t matter you’ve already lost title or no title the coming Extinction cannot and will not be stopped no matter how many times you shout at God Connolly he just doesn’t care about a piece of shit. So he’s sent us to finally flush the bowl and send you down with all the rest of waste of this place. Enjoy the ride it’s going to be a painful one.
Ignore my partner Connolly while he does speak the truth about God almighty and the fact that your partner is just about as useful as singing coach to Steven Hawkins. I. I see great promise in you C2 a Hall of Fame Pheasant just perfect for the plucking. I can see it now Christian, you know by the way they used to feed Christian’s to the lions with thousands upon thousands watching with glee and fright. Well the more things change as they say the more they stay the same. Like now, between us the lions your about to be fed to that and my mother’s recipe for pheasant. It takes time but you’ve had enough too, a Pheasant was once considered a poor man’s meal. Such as yourself considered the poor man’s T-Money on your best day as I’ve heard the Lord say time and time again but you’ve found your stride just as HIS time is coming and there would be nothing more sweeter than sipping on the blood of a whiner such as yourself on that day of glory when ALL gold will once again belong to God including yours that will become OUR’S and melted down to become HIS silver wear in order to eat your flesh, that fall off the bone flesh of a Pheasant who’s passion against God himself was turned into a meal for HIM, his faithful and the Warrior King. Oh Christian what fun will all have in the lion’s den in fact I’ve even included a sample of music to help ease the tension we don't want your juices to run dry when our teeth cut into your flesh now do we? This song is for you and the rest of those worthless masses to finally understand that in Frost’s world you are all nothing but LOSER’S….wonderful cooked LOSER’S but looser none the less that will feed the kingdom of heaven for all time.
I have never heard a man or God laugh as he did it seemed like forever but eventually it subsided but that smile. He took his arm and draped it over my shoulder to which I instantly felt a comfort not since my own father held me the same way as he turned to me and said as we made our way down towards HIS house……
“Maybe in the end, you're the one guy that does get to fuck 'em all.”