iPoem · 7127.3083.243.899 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2since Elgin left his nostrils in the stone
3upon his old oak chest he cuts his cheese
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10with gravity at gravity’s great cog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 7127.3083.243.899 (no. 806,855) was generated on November 7, 2026 at 8:45 pm
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