iPoem · 7701.8167.373.691 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2his exaltation shocked both youth and crone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6the North Wind Bites into his architrave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8that every verbal shock aims to deprave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13poor reader smile before your lips go numb
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 7701.8167.373.691 (no. 802,211) was generated on October 27, 2026 at 5:00 am
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