iPoem · 633.324.219.968 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 633.324.219.968 (no. 804,391) was generated on November 2, 2026 at 6:04 am
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