iPoem · 554.2296.486.369 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a bird-brain banquet melts bold Mistress Mog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 554.2296.486.369 (no. 806,257) was generated on November 6, 2026 at 8:53 am
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