iPoem · 5147.5056.752.544 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?

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 5147.5056.752.544 (no. 790,810) was generated on July 15, 2026 at 10:30 pm
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