iPoem · 5953.6317.761.657 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7th’outrageous Thames a troubled arrow slings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14soliloquies predict great things old chum

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 5953.6317.761.657 (no. 799,722) was generated on October 20, 2026 at 11:00 am
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