iPoem · 440.6706.669.598 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 440.6706.669.598 (no. 792,702) was generated on August 26, 2026 at 2:38 pm
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