iPoem · 5210.6403.970.981 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 5210.6403.970.981 (no. 804,499) was generated on November 2, 2026 at 1:39 pm
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