iPoem · 419.9361.954.559 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 419.9361.954.559 (no. 789,472) was generated on June 14, 2026 at 1:58 pm
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