iPoem · 5630.6301.735.622 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 5630.6301.735.622 (no. 793,145) was generated on September 4, 2026 at 5:23 pm
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