iPoem · 5089.1467.768.667 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 5089.1467.768.667 (no. 808,734) was generated on November 13, 2026 at 2:16 am
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