While standing on my hands,

Or balanced on my head,

I’m looking at the world from upside down.

 

I’m cartwheeling at play,

In my inverted way;

A raving king addicted to his crown.

 

I’m hanging from the ceiling –

A strangely bracing feeling –

Suspended in the void just like a bat.

 

Revolving through one-eighty –

My bottom end quite weighty –

My view of Earth is resolutely flat.

 

My failures are one big success,

Democrats morph to dictators,

And violent men who start the trouble

Are victims, and not invaders.

 

Old allies are suddenly enemies,

While pariahs receive assent,

And the slaughtered contained in body bags

Become part of some staged event.