iPoem · 4157.492.230.882 · Cent mille milliards

1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

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
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 4157.492.230.882 (no. 802,571) was generated on October 28, 2026 at 7:01 am
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