1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

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

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 7704.2413.599.215 (no. 803,414) was generated on October 30, 2026 at 1:53 pm
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