iPoem · 5379.8753.328.817 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 5379.8753.328.817 (no. 800,424) was generated on October 22, 2026 at 9:42 am
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