iPoem · 2027.1203.700.605 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 2027.1203.700.605 (no. 792,984) was generated on September 1, 2026 at 3:59 pm
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