iPoem · 8540.9306.198.129 · 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

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
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 8540.9306.198.129 (no. 794,638) was generated on September 29, 2026 at 3:13 am
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