iPoem · 7524.5510.928.971 · 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
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
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 7524.5510.928.971 (no. 805,713) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 11:55 pm
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