iPoem · 9054.950.903.461 · Cent mille milliards

1The marble tomb gapes wide with jangling keys
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

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 9054.950.903.461 (no. 808,888) was generated on November 13, 2026 at 12:09 pm
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