iPoem · 5833.3993.972.536 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12One misses cricket hearth and croaking frog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14a wise loaf always knows its humblest crumb

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 5833.3993.972.536 (no. 799,512) was generated on October 19, 2026 at 9:32 pm
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