iPoem · 5017.7471.316.493 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 5017.7471.316.493 (no. 803,960) was generated on November 1, 2026 at 2:15 am
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