iPoem · 5009.5170.690.792 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Bard I adore your endless monologue
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 5009.5170.690.792 (no. 799,970) was generated on October 21, 2026 at 3:37 am
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