iPoem · 5051.9183.513.779 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
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 5051.9183.513.779 (no. 801,366) was generated on October 24, 2026 at 9:00 pm
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