iPoem · 1551.5765.513.602 · Cent mille milliards

1The wild horse champs the Parthenon’s top frieze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 1551.5765.513.602 (no. 801,945) was generated on October 26, 2026 at 11:36 am
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