iPoem · 5846.3373.723.981 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 5846.3373.723.981 (no. 800,509) was generated on October 22, 2026 at 2:53 pm
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