Monday, August 10, 2009

Talking Heid

In the 'Zig Zag' Exhibition in Dumfries, Robert Burns appears as, among other things, a talking heid.




A Hologram of Robert Burns
speaks to a portrait of Miss Eliza Burnett
after the Exhibition shuts


Eliza, go away in:
that arty crew have pickled me,
scooped me out like a mannequin.
I’m a talking head, and my mouth
churns out songs and poems,
not in my rheumy voice,
but in the rich and fruity tones
of some Neil Oliver wannabe.

They’ve made me a museum,
a kist of noise and junk.
In the corner of the room
I see the word Immortality,
but what kind of legacy is here?
Some mad collector’s only.
Does the world need a poison jar
for humanity and honest truth?

Or want to put poetry behind
perspex, as if it wasn’t instead
the core and right of everyone,
the oxygen we have to breathe?
Perhaps now the earth is full
of talking heads in towns like these,
sucking old words like gruel.
Eliza, do you think that passion’s dead?

11 comments:

Titus said...

Should I not go then?

Hugh McMillan said...

definitely go. It's free.

Titus said...

I'm not Scottish.

Hugh McMillan said...

parsimony knows no boundaries

vinnie said...

When I get my disabled bus pass I'll come and see byou in Thornhill Shug. Or maybe I'll hitch up with MacDuff and we can have a blood bath somewhere near St Mary's Loch

Titus said...

The man above has just come to my blog and posted "Shite". I hold you responsible. I'm definitely not going now.

Hugh McMillan said...

I decline responsibility for Vinnie but I will warn him of your delicate southron sensibilities

Hugh McMillan said...

Vinnie I will be glad to meet you but don't bring that bloke with the withered hand

hope said...

Can I go via YouTube? :)

Hey, County Government is not, contrary to popular belief, one of those high paying jobs. ;)

Rachel Fenton said...

I liked the line "poetry behind perspex"..like perspective...it is often what's behind something that is more intriguing than the front; like these comments! :)

Stooshie said...

Like the poem. Poetry comes & goes in a cyclical nature. Just a shame we've had to watch it go for the past 20 years. I don't think it'll be organic ever again. Twitter or MySpace seem to be the new poetry.