iPoem · 5497.6271.530.577 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
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 5497.6271.530.577 (no. 801,752) was generated on October 25, 2026 at 11:02 pm
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