1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 7846.6565.261.981 (no. 805,154) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 6:41 am
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