iPoem · 5056.6666.451.337 · 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
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 5056.6666.451.337 (no. 805,752) was generated on November 5, 2026 at 2:02 am
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