iPoem · 7490.9301.952.325 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2through snobbish growing round her hemline zone
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5It’s one of many horrid happenings
6when flame a form to wrath ancestral gave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10and starve the sniveling baby like a dog
11while homeward thirsts to each quenched glass say yes

12No need to cart such treasures from the fog
13on fish-slab whale nor seal has never swum
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 7490.9301.952.325 (no. 801,932) was generated on October 26, 2026 at 10:37 am
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