iPoem · 112.6273.489.661 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 112.6273.489.661 (no. 794,515) was generated on September 26, 2026 at 5:12 am
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