iPoem · 5404.6293.665.466 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 5404.6293.665.466 (no. 800,514) was generated on October 22, 2026 at 3:15 pm
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