1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4that suede ferments is not at all well known

5O Parthenon you hold the charger’s strings
6whose ocean still-born herrings madly brave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

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
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 7550.1203.952.385 (no. 798,154) was generated on October 16, 2026 at 5:50 am
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