iPoem · 8008.2695.569.869 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2the bull’s horns ought to dry it like a bone
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4while sharks to let’s say potted shrimps are prone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8thou homestead hillside woodland rock and cave

9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10with quill white-collared through his life will jog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14the best of all things to an end must come

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 8008.2695.569.869 (no. 803,458) was generated on October 30, 2026 at 4:36 pm
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