iPoem · 2611.5428.353.457 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 2611.5428.353.457 (no. 799,529) was generated on October 19, 2026 at 9:59 pm
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