iPoem · 8593.5563.630.139 · Cent mille milliards

1The acid tongue with gourmet’s expertise
2that horders of crooks felt they’d more right to own
3forms shadowy with indecision wheeze
4which neither time nor tide can long postpone

5Oh how oh how he hates such pilferings
6filching the lolly country thrift helped save
7the fertile mother changelings drops like kings
8till firemen come with hose-piped tidal wave

9The genealogist with field and fess
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11and played their mountain croquet jungle chess

12Their sculptors did our best our hulks the clog
13the Taj Mahal has trinkets spice and gum
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 8593.5563.630.139 (no. 804,656) was generated on November 2, 2026 at 11:38 pm
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