iPoem · 7217.5792.349.651 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 7217.5792.349.651 (no. 792,516) was generated on August 21, 2026 at 10:49 am
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