iPoem · 451.3860.996.129 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 451.3860.996.129 (no. 795,650) was generated on October 9, 2026 at 5:48 pm
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