iPoem · 7037.5475.986.673 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 7037.5475.986.673 (no. 789,009) was generated on June 8, 2026 at 11:50 am
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