iPoem · 7255.964.68.681 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 7255.964.68.681 (no. 805,609) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 7:52 pm
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