iPoem · 8101.6329.230.556 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 8101.6329.230.556 (no. 806,708) was generated on November 7, 2026 at 11:47 am
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