iPoem · 716.6700.978.806 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 716.6700.978.806 (no. 797,696) was generated on October 14, 2026 at 11:00 pm
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