iPoem · 5632.3761.892.639 · 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
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
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 5632.3761.892.639 (no. 794,419) was generated on September 24, 2026 at 12:06 pm
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