iPoem · 5903.3667.574.182 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 5903.3667.574.182 (no. 789,532) was generated on June 15, 2026 at 3:42 pm
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