iPoem · 5836.8325.906.255 · 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
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
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 5836.8325.906.255 (no. 808,663) was generated on November 12, 2026 at 9:53 pm
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