iPoem · 446.169.88.139 · 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
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
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 446.169.88.139 (no. 791,528) was generated on July 31, 2026 at 10:24 am
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