iPoem · 8443.6906.952.302 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 8443.6906.952.302 (no. 806,531) was generated on November 6, 2026 at 11:38 pm
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