iPoem · 7696.3763.636.851 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2the answer is they could be twins full-grown
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4normal one aims to be and share the throne

5How it suprised us pale grey underlings
6that metred rhyme alone can souls enslave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11to prove mamma an adult with a tress

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
14for Europe’s glory while Fate’s harpies strum

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 7696.3763.636.851 (no. 807,539) was generated on November 9, 2026 at 8:04 pm
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