iPoem · 5436.6374.202.901 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 5436.6374.202.901 (no. 802,572) was generated on October 28, 2026 at 7:04 am
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