iPoem · 2356.496.50.891 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 2356.496.50.891 (no. 806,787) was generated on November 7, 2026 at 4:02 pm
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