iPoem · 8532.6110.418.461 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 8532.6110.418.461 (no. 797,622) was generated on October 14, 2026 at 6:51 pm
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