iPoem · 2557.2445.962.433 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
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 2557.2445.962.433 (no. 805,224) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 10:49 am
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