iPoem · 2033.9696.378.211 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 2033.9696.378.211 (no. 797,619) was generated on October 14, 2026 at 6:42 pm
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