iPoem · 2542.9196.970.495 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 2542.9196.970.495 (no. 798,553) was generated on October 17, 2026 at 7:34 am
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