iPoem · 5987.2461.424.649 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 5987.2461.424.649 (no. 798,368) was generated on October 16, 2026 at 6:39 pm
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