iPoem · 139.3393.456.623 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 139.3393.456.623 (no. 807,228) was generated on November 8, 2026 at 10:08 pm
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