iPoem · 2539.1493.429.279 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

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 2539.1493.429.279 (no. 807,835) was generated on November 10, 2026 at 3:55 pm
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