iPoem · 8390.6420.978.195 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2for tea cucumber sandwiches a scone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 8390.6420.978.195 (no. 802,472) was generated on October 27, 2026 at 11:45 pm
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