iPoem · 8231.2663.410.489 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2his nasal ecstasy beats best Cologne
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4and loudly sang off-key without a tone

5The frisian Isles my friends are cherised things
6rejecting ermine to become a knave
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9Emboggled minds may puff and blow and guess
10a piercint wit would sprightliest horses flog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12With breaking voice across the Alps they slog
13though bretzels take the dols from board-room drum
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 8231.2663.410.489 (no. 796,560) was generated on October 12, 2026 at 3:47 am
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