iPoem · 5757.9665.699.305 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 5757.9665.699.305 (no. 800,447) was generated on October 22, 2026 at 11:10 am
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