iPoem · 7710.5753.993.61 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Southern baroque’s seductive dialogue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 7710.5753.993.61 (no. 800,683) was generated on October 23, 2026 at 1:41 am
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