iPoem · 6400.117.298.899 · Cent mille milliards

1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 6400.117.298.899 (no. 793,565) was generated on September 9, 2026 at 11:56 pm
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