iPoem · 5050.3101.452.265 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 5050.3101.452.265 (no. 804,733) was generated on November 3, 2026 at 3:56 am
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