iPoem · 127.5368.639.148 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
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 127.5368.639.148 (no. 793,592) was generated on September 10, 2026 at 11:27 pm
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