I think tis possible I finally found
A man after my own heart; how profound
The writings and stylings of one John Wilmot
Professing love, lust and life as a sot
Ne'er afraid to speak his mind
You'd likely to have resented him in yours
and finding quick that cynic's tongue, be hard-pressed to wit return
A true free-thinker in a free-thinking paradise
created by the crown which he so despised
as despising all monarchies as travesties and lies
A man who lived life as if he enjoyed it though truly he didn't
until the very end; disgusted with, and by, the reasoning of men
and he lived his life according to the pen
I can think of no better person to mirror my thoughts
Caught in todays' society as it is, tumbling; lost
amidst the despicable hordes of thoughtless slobs
I find myself consumed by the desire to drink, to be a sot
As this man was in his own time, til drink did rot
his very innards and guts, body consumed by the pox
This asshole of assholes; prick of pricks; one John Wilmot
If you were to ask me what intrigues me so much
about a man whose life was filled with wine and lust
A mind from a different time, as keen and sharp as mine
Controversial and hated, yet loved all the same
Ne'er afraid to speak his thoughts, to push the limits
to and of the world surrounding his very being,
possessing a strength of will found lacking in normal men.
For him to be a man of such stock in life
To disregard all titles of nobility and spurn his Christ,
yet be so profound with reason as to expose all lies
within the hearts and minds of all mankind

Pride drew him in, as cheats their bubbles catch,
And made him venture, to be made a wretch.
His wisdom did his happiness destroy,
Aiming to know that world he should enjoy;
And Wit was his vain, frivolous pretence
Of pleasing others, at his own expense.

But thoughts are given for action's government;
Where action ceases, thought's impertinent.
Our sphere of action is life's happiness,
And he that thinks beyond, thinks like an ass.

Even though in life he was heretic, heathen and sot
it is my hope that you will remember, forever, Lord John Wilmot

Italic portions quoted from 'A Satyre Against Mankind' by John Wilmot, The Earl of Rochester