1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14fried grilled black pudding’s still the world’s best yum

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 5445.776.262.838 (no. 803,540) was generated on October 30, 2026 at 9:37 pm
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