iPoem · 2317.5250.321.899 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 2317.5250.321.899 (no. 793,409) was generated on September 8, 2026 at 4:52 pm
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