iPoem · 5556.7499.768.665 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11the country lane just thrives on farmyard mess

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 5556.7499.768.665 (no. 797,094) was generated on October 13, 2026 at 12:53 pm
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