iPoem · 583.8409.160.888 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 583.8409.160.888 (no. 796,853) was generated on October 12, 2026 at 10:25 pm
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