iPoem · 5559.9165.996.215 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 5559.9165.996.215 (no. 793,141) was generated on September 4, 2026 at 5:23 pm
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