iPoem · 4621.399.979.827 · Cent mille milliards

1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
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 4621.399.979.827 (no. 805,596) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 7:52 pm
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