iPoem · 943.6577.296.181 · Cent mille milliards

1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 943.6577.296.181 (no. 804,249) was generated on November 1, 2026 at 9:03 pm
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