iPoem · 7957.5009.303.603 · Cent mille milliards

1Prose took the minstrel’s verse without a squeeze
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3he bent right down and well what did he seize
4’ere meanings new to ancient tribes are thrown

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6signalling gauchos very rarely shave
7an icicle of frozen marrow pings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9The fasting fakir doesn’t smell the less
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11the colonel’s still escutcheoned in undress

12But I can understand you Brogher Gog
13suits lisping Spanish tongues for whom say some
14and lessors’ dates have all too short a sum

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 7957.5009.303.603 (no. 796,825) was generated on October 12, 2026 at 8:39 pm
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