iPoem · 323.790.693.844 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?

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 323.790.693.844 (no. 806,647) was generated on November 7, 2026 at 7:39 am
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