iPoem · 5443.326.959.660 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum

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 5443.326.959.660 (no. 807,372) was generated on November 9, 2026 at 8:45 am
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