iPoem · 5967.7096.323.869 · Cent mille milliards

1He bent right down to pick up his valise
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3replies like this the dumbstruck brain may tease
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8in purest cradels tha’s how they behave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10shallots and sharks’fins face the smould’ring log
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 5967.7096.323.869 (no. 802,535) was generated on October 28, 2026 at 4:37 am
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