iPoem · 2857.3356.398.241 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
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 2857.3356.398.241 (no. 802,265) was generated on October 27, 2026 at 8:59 am
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