The Fondest Farewell to the World's Worst Most Awesome Lame Badass Dog

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the (bratwurst-shaped) dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the (yips and/or) pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the (boogers and) mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle (the house each morning, barking and) moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message: He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the (red peppers? NO!) white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that (oversexed ankles and elbows and) love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up (the whose-panties-are-those poop and) the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

--"Funeral Blues" W.H. Auden

More flattering (ie. younger) pictures of Romeo are on the way. I don't take many things seriously (for example, this incredible poem), but I do miss him already and I'm (no lie) having trouble picturing the world without his mindless incredibly random retarded awesomeness.

Farewell sweet prince. Like a phantom limb, I'll always feel you humping me -- old-man style with the awkward mounting and the dissatisfied grunts -- humping me somewhere.

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