iPoem · 5515.357.36.493 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4the thumb- and finger-prints of Al Capone

5To one sweet hour of bliss my memory clings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7he’s gone to London how the echo rings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Staunch pilgrims longest journeys can’t depress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 5515.357.36.493 (no. 808,592) was generated on November 12, 2026 at 4:48 pm
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