iPoem · 8540.5485.399.505 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 8540.5485.399.505 (no. 801,202) was generated on October 24, 2026 at 10:46 am
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