1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7such merchandise a melancholy brings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12Lobsters for sale must be our apologue
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 7450.7429.972.289 (no. 803,698) was generated on October 31, 2026 at 8:39 am
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