iPoem · 7098.5969.929.736 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 7098.5969.929.736 (no. 792,215) was generated on August 14, 2026 at 6:04 am
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