iPoem · 593.668.650.896 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 593.668.650.896 (no. 789,598) was generated on June 18, 2026 at 5:02 am
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