iPoem · 2857.9261.308.185 · 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

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 2857.9261.308.185 (no. 806,959) was generated on November 8, 2026 at 4:07 am
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