iPoem · 7547.8576.918.699 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
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 7547.8576.918.699 (no. 797,564) was generated on October 14, 2026 at 3:40 pm
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