1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The wolf devours both sheep and shepherdess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
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 7425.6490.858.341 (no. 796,158) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 1:37 am
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