1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
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 7230.3665.952.351 (no. 796,070) was generated on October 10, 2026 at 7:58 pm
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