iPoem · 211.893.213.368 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 211.893.213.368 (no. 808,250) was generated on November 11, 2026 at 6:31 pm
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