iPoem · 5844.5594.755.305 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2licks round carved marble chops on snails full-blown
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8Etruscan words which Greece and Rome engrave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
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 5844.5594.755.305 (no. 807,237) was generated on November 8, 2026 at 11:00 pm
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