#huntersthompson - Hello Poetry

Hunter S Thompson held hands with death The bony fingers wrapped over his own Resting on the trigger of a gun pressed to his head Bang: blood went everywhere Found by his son with dead eyes and cold to the touch Sylvia Plath laid her head on deaths lap Inside of an oven with the gas turned on She took deep breaths and starved for oxygen Carbon monoxide filled her lungs Found by a nurse with blue lips and a still chest David Foster Wallace reached up to kiss the lips of death A rope worn as a necklace He let his body hang as his face turned blue Found on his patio with a broken neck and a broken heart I too am a writer and they are scared for me to reach for death I long for their embrace as a razor across my wrists Writers are always torn apart trying to be too many people at once So let them find me without a spark of life or an ounce of blood left inside

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May 9, 2017

May 9, 2017 at 8:03 PM UTC

lookingforforeverinyoureyes

I write love letters to death

Hunter S Thompson held hands with death The bony fingers wrapped over his own Resting on the trigger of a gun pressed to his head Bang: blood went everywhere Found by his son with dead eyes and cold to the touch Sylvia Plath laid her head on deaths lap Inside of an oven with the gas turned on She took deep breaths and starved for oxygen Carbon monoxide filled her lungs Found by a nurse with blue lips and a still chest David Foster Wallace reached up to kiss the lips of death A rope worn as a necklace He let his body hang as his face turned blue Found on his patio with a broken neck and a broken heart I too am a writer and they are scared for me to reach for death I long for their embrace as a razor across my wrists Writers are always torn apart trying to be too many people at once So let them find me without a spark of life or an ounce of blood left inside

18

Gonzo goes out with a 45 blast. He was kicking *** in Aspen, we knew it wouldn't last. The rambling, gambling man of journalism put Fear and Loathing on the map, but in the end, he couldn't stay. It's bat country.

0

Mar 1, 2021

Mar 1, 2021 at 5:23 PM UTC

thomas-w-case

Goodbye Gonzo

Gonzo goes out with a 45 blast. He was kicking *** in Aspen, we knew it wouldn't last. The rambling, gambling man of journalism put Fear and Loathing on the map, but in the end, he couldn't stay. It's bat country.

11

This one goes out to the rambling, gambling madman from Aspen- the late great Hunter S. Thompson. My drinking has landed me in prison for a short stint. To occupy my time, I read and write, it keeps my mind sharp and the nursing homes at bay. Also, a pen or a book in my hand has the added benefit of a signal to the other inmates that I'm in my own world, and I don't care to converse. H.S.T's guerrilla approach to writing, and his sharp gonzo wit keep me laughing and thinking on this carnival ride from hell. And if I can laugh in prison, I'm halfway home. My mind will go where my body can't. Like Hunter, I'm a betting man who always bets on the long shots. So I'm putting a bundle on me to pull out of this **** hole and do something with my life. ** ** ** God Bless you, Doctor. And as my old man used to say, "They can **** us, but they can't eat us."

0

Feb 14, 2025

Feb 14, 2025 at 10:52 AM UTC

thomas-w-case

One for Hunter

This one goes out to the rambling, gambling madman from Aspen- the late great Hunter S. Thompson. My drinking has landed me in prison for a short stint. To occupy my time, I read and write, it keeps my mind sharp and the nursing homes at bay. Also, a pen or a book in my hand has the added benefit of a signal to the other inmates that I'm in my own world, and I don't care to converse. H.S.T's guerrilla approach to writing, and his sharp gonzo wit keep me laughing and thinking on this carnival ride from hell. And if I can laugh in prison, I'm halfway home. My mind will go where my body can't. Like Hunter, I'm a betting man who always bets on the long shots. So I'm putting a bundle on me to pull out of this **** hole and do something with my life. ** ** ** God Bless you, Doctor. And as my old man used to say, "They can **** us, but they can't eat us."

32