iPoem · 8509.9883.313.419 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 8509.9883.313.419 (no. 797,446) was generated on October 14, 2026 at 9:39 am
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