iPoem · 5867.9461.960.115 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 5867.9461.960.115 (no. 791,231) was generated on July 25, 2026 at 11:45 pm
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