iPoem · 5237.8958.919.417 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 5237.8958.919.417 (no. 800,261) was generated on October 21, 2026 at 10:53 pm
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