iPoem · 7584.8922.599.890 · 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
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum

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 7584.8922.599.890 (no. 791,048) was generated on July 21, 2026 at 4:21 pm
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