iPoem · 5092.1224.226.867 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
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 5092.1224.226.867 (no. 806,467) was generated on November 6, 2026 at 7:38 pm
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