iPoem · 7887.7920.234.358 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 7887.7920.234.358 (no. 804,539) was generated on November 2, 2026 at 4:18 pm
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