iPoem · 7540.7993.275.142 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6with sombre thoughts they grimly line the nave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9When dried the terrapin can naught express
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11watching manure and compost coalesce

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13do bank clerks rule their abacus by thumb
14they’re kings we’re mammal-cousins hi ho hum

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 7540.7993.275.142 (no. 801,690) was generated on October 25, 2026 at 7:02 pm
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