iPoem · 1821.6393.671.947 · Cent mille milliards

1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 1821.6393.671.947 (no. 809,492) was generated on November 15, 2026 at 3:54 am
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