iPoem · 5426.283.430.275 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 5426.283.430.275 (no. 796,346) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 1:45 pm
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