iPoem · 5459.6703.696.185 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 5459.6703.696.185 (no. 803,421) was generated on October 30, 2026 at 2:33 pm
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