iPoem · 5197.483.782.364 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 5197.483.782.364 (no. 790,548) was generated on July 10, 2026 at 4:05 am
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