iPoem · 7107.9703.535.999 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
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 7107.9703.535.999 (no. 805,757) was generated on November 5, 2026 at 2:37 am
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