iPoem · 5531.765.696.193 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

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
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 5531.765.696.193 (no. 792,764) was generated on August 27, 2026 at 9:46 pm
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