1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 5627.7413.250.669 (no. 802,185) was generated on October 27, 2026 at 2:58 am
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