iPoem · 8024.6176.711.612 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 8024.6176.711.612 (no. 791,144) was generated on July 23, 2026 at 7:07 pm
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