Sorry, there is no poem this time.
I couldn't think of things that rhyme.
Whaddaya know, I found a way!
Happy Fifty-Eighth Birthday!!

Do something that makes you laugh.
Get drunk and try not to ****.
Dance until your feet get sore.
Then sleep and know that you're adored.

I said I'd write a poem for you,
Once I got to know you,
And now, I think that I do.

It took some time for your colours to shine,
But now I'm done, so here,
Let me show you.

You are light as the day,
With no hint of dark,
It's all bunnies, princesses and pink.

You bore me to tears,
Like a bar with no beers,
And you certainly can't handle your drink.

You're the arms-length kind,
A mediocre mind,
Fakeness and lies are your craft.

You flutter your eyes,
Like a sneaky tweety-pie,
And all the boys start acting daft.

It can't all be bad,
That would be sad,
Of course, there are nice things to say.

I just don't know what they are,
Not those things in your bra,
I've seen bigger **** in ballets.

You have a nice ****,
a nine, if I'm asked,
But that means that I'd have to say...

If I'm being true,
The best thing about you
Is the sight of you walking away.

Visceral, my eternal shadow,
haunts my lies,
lowers my eyes.

in only one light,
insight, not bright,
the lie and the shadow dies.

I 'm a pendulum.
Swinging in and out of the light,
Wanting to come out of this mood, to smile.

In the dark now,
Heading in and getting darker,
Helpless but to stroke another depressing second.

About to strike now,
I know I'll turn back soon,
I can feel the soft light on my back assuring me.

I have turned,
Finally light is on my face,
Those frightening thoughts seem to wash away.

I burst into the light,
I know it won't last forever,
The darkness behind relentlessly tugging at my mind.

I float through life,
Ignoring the strife,
No kids and no wife,
And I’m fine.

I’ll listen or not,
I’ll like what I’ve got,
I’ll not take a lot,
I'll Not whine.

I’ll drink all the night,
I'll Fight if I like,
Then I might steal a bike,
Now it’s mine.

I’ll guzzle some whiskey,
I'll do something risky,
Then I might get frisky
And find.

A fine willing woman,
Not boring or wooden,
Lay on sheets a'woollen,
Bedtime.

I’ll wake up tomorrow,
Some money I’ll borrow,
And then I will swallow,
Some wine.

I’ll do it all over,
A young Irish Rover,
You better move over,
Einstein.

I’m young and I'm clever,
And I’ll do whatever,
Whatever the weather,
I’ll shine.