Office of Poet Laureate

Literary Heritage of Ackanomic

This page records some of the more notable outpourings of the citizens of Ackanomic. Men (and occasionally women) who have felt the need to pour out their souls in the medium of the creative literary arts, which have all too often come acoss as the demented ramblings of a serial killer. Government agents take note, here in these pages may be found the first stirrings of the psychotic mind.

Suggestions for what items should be on display here are welcome.

King Felix's Phoebe post

In the last day or two I had a strange visitation which in my quiet hours I have laid down in verse. I present it here for all Ackans to make of what they will.

The Rime of the Ancient Nanotech

While searching through my home one day,
I made a curious find
(For no entities dwelt within my house
For it was undefined).

A tiny little matchbox
Coloured mostly red and blue.
No matches could be found inside -
It was far from being new.

Instead, inside, all I could find
Was a shiny little flea
Who stood right up on itís short hind legs
And began to speak to me!

"Sire," it pronounced aloud,
"Or whatever youíre called today,
All acka would surely be destroyed
If you could have your way."

"I fear thee, ancient nanotech
I fear thy shining frame!
And scaremongering is not your job,
Havenít you read the rules of this game?"

"Donít talk back!" she quickly snapped,
"And stop this Coleridge talk.
I have wisdom to impart to you,
Iím not one that you should mock."

"The rules," she said quite assuredly
"Donít need to be retracted,
Just write things that are voluntary
So no players are contracted

"To have to take an active part
In each and every piece of harf.
More things like sub-games and the like
So the players can have a larf."

"That was a painful rhyme," I said,
"I thought you were supposed to be wise."
"Youíre the one shooting for laureate!"
And she poked me in both eyes.

I staggered around in considerable pain
Searching for a non-existent sink
To wash my eyes, and see again
Yet all I could do was blink.

When finally I began to see
And my vision slowly cleared
I looked around for the little f...flea.
She had completely disappeared.

Limerick Duel (Winner: JT)

All sensible Ackans take note
JT might have reason to gloat.
Though he's since sent out word:
"That election's deferred"
That's okay: JT still has my vote.

There was a young fellow from Acka
By name of else...if, he's no slacker.
He called for this duel,
but now looks the fool,
as I gave my support to his backer.

else...if's "scaremongering"

A message from your Scaremonger, to the tune of "The Ballad of Sweeny Todd":

Attend the tale of number oh.
We should have abandoned it long ago.
No other number could survive
When by zero it was multiplied.
Although it had nothing to add,
It's tale is sad:
The demon number of Acka.

It tried to reach out to others too:
Not what a number ought to do.
Finally it became a third,
By 3 to 3, a vote absurd,
From else,
From foolish else,
The Evil Math Troll of Acka.

Cut those numbers down, zero,
Make them all like you!
If one-third equals zero,
Two-thirds does too!

In adding it was just a blank:
Nothing would grow, but nothing shrank.
Subtracting too was just the same:
It had no value to its name
Its value was infinitesimal,
'Twas really null.
The demon number of Acka.

Inconspicuous zero was,
Almost nonexistant it was.
Amost a circle, perfect ellipse
All other numbers zero would eclipse.

Zero plotted and zero planned,
Like the number it was it planned.
Zero's revenge was not denied,
We all know what happens when zero divides:

Zero was smooth, zero was clever,
Zero would be the only number ever:
Inconspicous zero was,
Quick and quiet a plan it was,
A truly evil number it was,
Was zero,

Attend the tale of number oh,
It did what it should have done long ago.
All the others have been multiplied,
They've srunk inside
To zero,
To number oh,
The demon number of Acka.

This page was last updated on 1/6/99 at 12:55


This page maintained by Gavin Logan