iPoem · 2907.5760.254.308 · Cent mille milliards

1At snuff no Cornish sailorman would sneeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11on wheels the tourist follows hos hostess

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 2907.5760.254.308 (no. 801,939) was generated on October 26, 2026 at 10:53 am
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