iPoem · 107.6808.615.301 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 107.6808.615.301 (no. 792,674) was generated on August 25, 2026 at 3:55 pm
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