Dear Gerard,
I suppose being famous you get a lot of mail,
And every little piece of text, even this one, has its own precious tale,
Because I’m not going to talk about me, though that might change later,
For that would make me some kind of birthday traitor
And now I’ve revealed this poem's true purpose,
Which is to celebrate your birthday and your fabulous (ness)!
So on with a few of your favourite things
In a poem that would rival the ballads of kings! (maybe)
The first thing I knew you as was a singer
Someone who taught, a lesson giver
I listened to your music and it helped me through some times
The words bringing forgiveness, relief in every rhyme
But as I moved on in the education of the Way,
I realised there was so much more you didn’t sing but say
Whether in interview comments or a sassy twitter remark,
The words made a mark on my otherwise impenetrable black mess of a heart
Even words about coffee or the love of a cat,
For everyone loves both and you can't argue with that.
Well, except for the haters, but they can fuck off,
Go pick on some other artist, like Vincent Van Gogh.
But we prefer your work, as ‘different’ as it can be,
Because who cares when we can look at the world and see what you see?
Back to you though, and your wonderful assets, such as your ass,
And your amazing ability to drink that much coffee with that much sass,
Your capability of making even short shorts look cool,
Your ability to wear suits that would make lesser people look like a fool,
You accomplishment of reading every comic book set,
Your talent to win the prize of ‘best at internet’
Your ability to ramble on fuzz pedals and veggie burgers,
And the fact you like things that don’t rhyme, like veggie burgers.
Basically, I just wanted to say,
Even though you might not read this today,
Thank you for helping me through good times and bad,
I’m still here today, and that’s what makes me glad.
So although I may not be the most perfect thing,
Thank you for helping me with what you say, do and sing.
