iPoem · 5608.6363.25.606 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 5608.6363.25.606 (no. 796,575) was generated on October 12, 2026 at 4:44 am
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