iPoem · 4527.7963.642.886 · Cent mille milliards

1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 4527.7963.642.886 (no. 805,873) was generated on November 5, 2026 at 9:41 am
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