iPoem · 8643.1767.383.669 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 8643.1767.383.669 (no. 805,672) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 9:33 pm
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