iPoem · 161.6379.557.842 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 161.6379.557.842 (no. 791,405) was generated on July 28, 2026 at 11:39 pm
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