iPoem · 824.2991.431.668 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
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 824.2991.431.668 (no. 789,026) was generated on June 8, 2026 at 11:59 am
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