iPoem · 2156.3365.320.279 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

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 2156.3365.320.279 (no. 789,234) was generated on June 10, 2026 at 7:46 am
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