iPoem · 7603.8467.974.223 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 7603.8467.974.223 (no. 800,448) was generated on October 22, 2026 at 11:33 am
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