iPoem · 5429.8115.229.861 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
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 5429.8115.229.861 (no. 800,729) was generated on October 23, 2026 at 3:54 am
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