iPoem · 21.6418.442.481 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 21.6418.442.481 (no. 805,561) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 7:52 pm
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