iPoem · 5597.6582.493.581 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 5597.6582.493.581 (no. 807,569) was generated on November 9, 2026 at 10:41 pm
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