Front's non-comedy stylings are piling up This must be the 5th one like I'm just some punk- Ass non-clown not here to amuse you You're free to hit stop, go get hi & watch blue's clues I got loose screws in my comed-o-matic at the moment The fun-fun truck is stuck in the parking lot doing donuts And though cuts by front oft times cause ha-has unequalled Ain't nothing funny about 250,000 drowned people How I wish there were! the rhymes could unfurl apace Instead I'm eking every syllable out, an ungeeklike doubt in the grace Of my brainstem. pen to the pad: clumsy Six weeks since I sat dumbly Watched the numbers go up like the odometer on a formula one Doubled in every headline as I fed my un- Drowned first-world self another breakfast Imagining to have a life not even wrecked, just Washed away clean, set out to ocean Kids who coveted stranded fish caught in the motion Of an unstable planet and its swiftly tilting seashores Pardon if the rhyme's a little free-form And I ain't been reborn lately but I may be someday Like 250 thousand souls radioing mayday And imagine them all coming back at once A legion of newborns with wet eyes placing trust In mainlands, mountains, and landlocked states Keenly aware of potential repetitions of fate This adumbrated by the wobble in the womb Ever sorrowful at the notion of a typhoon Ever gleeful as a tree-full of dry leaf falls down To land undampened, soft and still on the ground (we're still on the ground) So look I like making humor. I poke fun at tumors All the people that my government tortures, it ain't rumors It's comedy gold! and I'm old hand around the gallows All the jokes I crack are callous and callow And shallow and in poor taste But I can't seem to summon that up today Might say all's fair in despair and upheaval But there ain't nothing funny about 250,000 drowned peop