iPoem · 132.309.753.294 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14in cognac brandy is Bacardi rum?

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 132.309.753.294 (no. 796,359) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 2:45 pm
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