iPoem · 7581.2151.670.257 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The genealogist with field and fess
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 7581.2151.670.257 (no. 789,396) was generated on June 13, 2026 at 10:32 am
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