iPoem · 6737.5299.231.399 · Cent mille milliards

1When one with t’other straightaway agrees
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
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 6737.5299.231.399 (no. 799,272) was generated on October 19, 2026 at 6:07 am
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