iPoem · 16.8997.53.188 · 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
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 16.8997.53.188 (no. 791,837) was generated on August 7, 2026 at 5:37 am
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