iPoem · 5154.5693.980.213 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 5154.5693.980.213 (no. 789,513) was generated on June 15, 2026 at 12:46 pm
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