Less mal
must tomes
of palindromes
be coupl’d with than cobia.
Recall, though:
‘aibohphobia’’s still,
backwards, ‘aibohphobia.’
Some stock (bouillon)
does Godfrey spawn
without a bouillon cube.
From shocks of flocs
he stock concocts. (And,
backwards, ‘boob’’s still ‘boob.’)
How scoundrels skulk
behind the stars ‘n’ stripes
one can’t forgive. Ick!
They’re sunshine soldiers,
although ‘civic’’s,
back- and
forwards, ‘civic.’
“We are as gods
and might as well get
good at it,” Brand cried.
Forgets not, Stewart:
‘deified’’s still, backwards,
‘deified.’
Its* pyramid reads,
“M D C C…
L X X
V I.”
Atop sits one
omniscient orb: ‘eye,’
backwards-spelt, is ‘eye.’
* The
dollar bill’s.
To don one’s truss…?
Innocuous,
but never eejit-proof.
Remember:
Is not ‘foolaloof,’ spelt
backwards, ‘foolaloof’…?
To lay down tracks
on discs of wax
we blow our axes, dig…?
And, through it all,
we all recall,
how ‘gig’’s still, backwards, ‘gig.’
Soon, dialogues
in synagogues
from Wien to Walla Walla
shall argue this
hypothesis: “So:
backwards, ‘hallah’’s ‘hallah.’
When pollsters bang,
do I harangue…?
Do I unleash my id…? I
do not.
I sigh, “’I did, did I…?’
is, backwards, ‘I did, did I…?’”
Ten grand, by gum,
is quite some sum:
it’s air fare for my hajj.
And yet, reversed,
‘jaravaraj’ remains
‘jaravaraj.’
Objets which float –
canoe, toy boat,
ark, raft – all craft which sway –
read diff’rent
each direction.
‘Kayak’s ‘kayak’ either way.
You’re such a devil!
As you revel,
handling your bevel,
you’re less inclined,
perhaps, to mind
that ‘level’’s, backwards, ‘level.’
With push ‘comes shove.
reserve your love
for women of the night.
Remember: ‘madam’’s ‘madam,’
right to left…
or left to right.
Our father’s glib.
Pa’s quick to fib
or croon a ribald tune.
As Daddy’s sons,
we run to puns
like “’noon,’ half spun, spells ‘noon.’”
Slim, Morag, Nessie,
Mussie, Cressie:
beasts unparallel’d.
Worse, ‘Ogopogo’’s
‘Ogopogo,’
either way (s)he’s spelled.
Don’t tell me you
don’t smell it. Whew!
The toilet’s overflowing.
No matter how you
spell it, ‘poop’’s ‘poop’ coming,
‘poop’’s ‘poop’ going.
In Qaanaaq are
some folks bizarre:
none dwell much farther north,
though ‘Qaanaaq’s ‘Qaanaaq,’
from whichever
pole
one sallies forth.
The coin gets tossed.
Through clouds, exhaust,
the race is lost or won,
while ‘racecar’’s
always ‘racecar,’
from whichever
end it’s run.
There L. There’s G.
There’s B, Q, T.
There’s many
shades of gay.
There’s +
as well.
Thus, ‘sexes’ looks
like ‘sexes’ either way.
This pol’s a souse.
He’s such a louse
he shames both house and Senate
by hawking votes
to purchase potes,
though ‘tenet’’s backwards ‘tenet.’
Some purr’d, “Absurd!”
That herd had heard
how, now, King Turd’s called Trump.
Yet, ‘Ubu’’s, backwards,
‘Ubu.’ (So: from
both tacks, Drumpf’s a chump.)
There’s yod. There’s beth.
There’s mem. There’s teth.
One’s shibboleths they’ll aid.
‘Vav’’s ‘vav’…no matter how –
back, forth –
its letters be array’d.
Most differ,
back- and forwards:
Crikey! Blimey! Holy cow!
Gadzooks! Gosh! Jeepers!
E-e-e-eek! Good grief!
But ‘Wow!’’s still, backwards, ‘Wow!’
Alprazolam,
diazepam:
each pill’s a silly name,
though none as fun as
Xanax: backwards,
Xanax reads the same.
Yreka, California’s
famous bakery’s
closed today.
But ‘Yreka Bakery’’s
still ‘Yreka Bakery,’
come what may.
A dollar’s
not a Krugerrand.
A nickel’s not a dime.
Withal, a ‘zuz’ is,
backwards, ‘zuz.’
Thus wraps my rap in rhyme.
