iPoem · 4591.8420.990.599 · Cent mille milliards

1From playboy Chance the nymph no longer flees
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 4591.8420.990.599 (no. 804,843) was generated on November 3, 2026 at 10:52 am
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