1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 1547.6767.576.691 (no. 806,103) was generated on November 5, 2026 at 11:02 pm
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