1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum

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 507.6297.940.990 (no. 795,097) was generated on October 7, 2026 at 7:43 pm
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