iPoem · 4592.3390.346.869 · Cent mille milliards

1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 4592.3390.346.869 (no. 803,472) was generated on October 30, 2026 at 5:33 pm
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