iPoem · 2127.393.108.300 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
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

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum

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 2127.393.108.300 (no. 808,621) was generated on November 12, 2026 at 6:57 pm
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