1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 5647.7372.553.897 (no. 790,149) was generated on June 30, 2026 at 12:50 pm
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