iPoem · 2083.6993.435.230 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3the showman gargles fire and sword with ease
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14the bell tolls fee-less fi-less fo-less fum

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 2083.6993.435.230 (no. 798,915) was generated on October 18, 2026 at 6:48 am
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