iPoem · 13.6296.223.795 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

Based on Raymond Queneau’s A Hundred Thousand Billion Poems, The 100,000,000,000,000 iPoem is a non-commercial artistic project inspired by Queneau’s work and the tradition of literary variation it inaugurated.
→ iPoem 13.6296.223.795 (no. 792,042) was generated on August 9, 2026 at 5:16 pm
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