iPoem · 5307.6044.608.319 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 5307.6044.608.319 (no. 801,257) was generated on October 24, 2026 at 2:47 pm
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