iPoem · 1437.6263.34.279 · Cent mille milliards

1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 1437.6263.34.279 (no. 809,378) was generated on November 14, 2026 at 8:41 pm
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