iPoem · 8509.8498.909.865 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3old corned-beef’s rusty armour spreads disease
4and empty cages show life’s bird has flown

5The roundabout eats profits made on swings
6were pots graffiti’d over by a slave
7proud death quite il-le-gi-ti-mate-ly stings
8the nicest kids for strickiest toffees crave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10what things we did we went the whole darned hog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address

12Whiskey will always wake an Irish bog
13and let you off from your opinions glum
14yet from the City’s pie pulled not one plum

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 8509.8498.909.865 (no. 796,331) was generated on October 11, 2026 at 12:42 pm
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