iPoem · 7520.1298.13.899 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 7520.1298.13.899 (no. 801,247) was generated on October 24, 2026 at 1:56 pm
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