iPoem · 7052.8747.131.319 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4with cherry-pips his cottage floor is sown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9Platonic Greece was not so talentless
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11socrates watched his hemlock effervesce

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13with marble souvenirs then fill a slum
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 7052.8747.131.319 (no. 807,614) was generated on November 10, 2026 at 1:51 am
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