iPoem · 739.6292.916.843 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8for burning bushes never fish forgave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 739.6292.916.843 (no. 802,771) was generated on October 28, 2026 at 7:45 pm
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