iPoem · 7959.3747.938.815 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
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 7959.3747.938.815 (no. 793,861) was generated on September 16, 2026 at 4:24 am
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