Zoning is dead
and dead let her be.
For of what use to us is she?
but a seed of discord
and a fruit of disunity.
She is mundane,
Archaic,
Obsolete
and barbaric.
Heeding her baleful
and woeful call,
will only lead us into something tragic.
O beloved country,
What else with this barren hag
do we seek?
Why fondly and loudly of her
do we speak?
Against her this day
we must firmly rise,
and strongly kick,
else
we’ll be driven to wee-graves,
so fast; so quick.
Our nation is one, any man, regarding not
his tribe
on the throne can have his turn.
He who the cap suitably fits,
let it on his head comfortably sit.
Let us not to this cancerous norm return,
for the new day has come
and the dreary nights are gone.
Over is the reign of dusk
Begun is a new era;
a new dawn.
Zoning is dead,
buried
and gone.
And let none
To her addle grave
ever return.
