iPoem · 176.6466.562.650 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the understanding critic firstly sees
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum

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 176.6466.562.650 (no. 797,652) was generated on October 14, 2026 at 8:20 pm
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