iPoem · 7110.9990.796.131 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3the Turks said just take anything you please
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8as sleeping-bags the silent landscape pave

9Poetic licence needs no strain or stress
10or grinning like a pale-faced golliwog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 7110.9990.796.131 (no. 803,625) was generated on October 31, 2026 at 2:59 am
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