iPoem · 8533.6589.970.153 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3her native chauffeur waited in the breeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5And yet ’twas he the beggar Fate just flings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7in salads all chew grubs before they’ve wings
8victorious worms grind all into the grave

9It’s no good rich men crying Heaven Bless
10one tongue will do to keep the verse agog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13where no one bothered how one warmed one’s bum
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 8533.6589.970.153 (no. 805,525) was generated on November 4, 2026 at 7:52 pm
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