iPoem · 149.7868.942.385 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 149.7868.942.385 (no. 795,427) was generated on October 9, 2026 at 4:37 am
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