Art, Trickster

Felines…

***

When the cat… Is out of the bag… It is exceedingly difficult… To get it back… Into the bag again… We are situated… In the middle carriage… Of our train of time… We can see into the carriage… Of the past… But we cannot get in there… Because the door is locked… Likewise with the future carriage… Albeit the window… In the door is frosted glass… In both future… And past carriages… The faces… Of Monkey… Pigsy… Sandy… And Tripitaka… Now loom large… Behind them in the past… Are the hard core crew as they were… And in the future… The hard core crew… As they will be… We assume.

***

Cats and bags eh… The smug fat-cats… Of the state propaganda machine… Are not meowing… Quite so loudly… Now the cream… Has turned sour… Only a matter of months ago… They were loudly… And aggressively… Calling for the punishment… And banishing… Of the Great Unwashed… And would brook… No argument… Now they are a lot less loud… As they apologetically… Make reference… To their lack of a crystal ball… Those with a crystal ball… Who knew how to use it… Could see this coming… And vowed then… Never to forget… And to make sure the Kappos were brought to justice.

***

From the relative safety… Of our carriage… As it hurtles along the tracks… Of eternity… We may posit some meaning… Onto the monstrous… Nature of our future… And our past… Monkey we might say… Represents the movement centre… Pigsy the heart… And Sandy the head… They are all monsters… When working alone… Without regard… For the others of their ilk… But when they come together on their pilgrimage… And work together… They are what we aspire to be… Whole… And wholesome… Tripitaka… Perhaps represents this realised state… Her horse is not in either carriage… Why not?

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