iPoem · 8004.6067.589.779 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 8004.6067.589.779 (no. 799,735) was generated on October 20, 2026 at 11:58 am
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