iPoem · 7514.6425.504.551 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
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 7514.6425.504.551 (no. 801,872) was generated on October 26, 2026 at 7:32 am
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