There is no artistry in art.

There was a time where art and poetry were glorious forms of expression, well not any more. Because I went on this website and I clicked on several boxes and the internet made a painting for me.


Click here to create your own painting.

With no skill, study or anything like that, I am an artist and anyone who has gone to the royal academy of art can go fuck themselves because I am an artist now, and I don't even need the skills that you have to do it.



Dali thought he was the man but he was wrong. I am the man.

Now that I have conquered the world of art next I turn my attention to the written word. There have been some amazing poems written over the years, epic stories from the aural tradition like Homer's Iliad, Hesiod's Theogeny and  that other poets Beowulf starring Ray Winstone.



This is what Ray Winstone would look like if he wasn't a big fat mockney cunt, but a scandanavian mythological prince.

These are just the early poems before language even knew how to define itself, before it became formalised with rules and punctuation        .
From here poetry and literature in general flourished; Shakespeare, Wordsworth, Shelly, Dante and Blake.



A painting by the poet William blake who judging by this evidence also painted, the painting is based on a passage from Dante's The Divine Comedy which is ironic because it is not very funny at all, in fact, the Inbetweeners and Lee Nelson is much more funnyer isn't it?

So for someone like Seamus Heaney, the party is kind of over, with all the poets that have been before, its pretty obvious that all the best combinations of words to create poetry have already occured. In fact poetry has become so formulaic that there are basic computer programmes that can write as good poetry... Don't believe me? Take the Pepsi challenge; which extract is written by Heaney and which one was randomly generated by a computer?

First extract

Where is the small sun?
Desolation, adventure, and desolation.
All breezes command lively, big gulls.
Why does the captain endure?
O, life!
Second extract

The daddy frog was called a bullfrog
And how he croaked and how the mammy frog
Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was
Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too
For they were yellow in the sun and brown
In rain.

...Okay, so the second extract is marginally better than the first but it is only a matter of time before a computer programme through sheer knowledge of mathematics will trump human emotion with simple data.



You're gong to need a change in career.

One might argue that even if and when computers take over the writing of literature-      like they took over military capability in 1999 when the military handed over all capability to cyberdine systems which in turn caused the machines to rise up against humans in a nuclear holocaust leaving only pockets of human resistance fighting against the terminators-     then at least Seamus Heaney can make a good living as a translator.



I mentioned Beowulf earlier and now I am mentioning it again, thus echoing an earlier motif... which is kind of poetic, and the fact that it is poetic is also in itself poetic because this blog is about the irrelevance of poetry.

BUT! back to Heaney's skillas a translator... that job is obsolete too since this website.

So there you go, any romantic notion about artistry, inspiration and connecting to the soul dispelled by a single blog.