iPoem · 7096.2943.993.645 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7the learning linguist cameramaniac sings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
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 7096.2943.993.645 (no. 796,410) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 5:57 pm
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