iPoem · 5038.7707.157.139 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11from cool Parnassus down to wild Loch Ness

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
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 5038.7707.157.139 (no. 808,630) was generated on November 12, 2026 at 7:48 pm
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