1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
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 5947.7957.395.932 (no. 797,788) was generated on October 15, 2026 at 6:33 am
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