iPoem · 7226.6466.431.325 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 7226.6466.431.325 (no. 793,597) was generated on September 11, 2026 at 12:38 am
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