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About Varied / Hobbyist AndrewMale/United Kingdom Recent Activity
Deviant for 5 Years
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Literature
Paradise
I sat poolside, cocktail in hand, contemplating existence. And while I did, the orange-red flame hues descended into deep purple over the vast expanse of infinite ocean - the dying, fading furnace of a once midday sun, now smouldering in the distance. And in its place, the new, fresh air was now beginning to offer relief from problem that could once only solved with powerful air conditioning.
I took another sip. The alcohol stung my throat, but then gently warmed and soothed with some sort of perverted mercy. I could feel the clouds roll through my head, carrying away my troubles, and replacing them with an insatiable drowsiness, sending me drifting to sleep...
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Literature
Leaving the Cemetery (Alternate Version)
Leaving the cemetery
Tears half dried on her face
She merges in traffic.
Alone in a car,
with a gentle shove
she returns to the drudgery,
of running from death.
The radio blares silence,
and diesel engines click.
Tears that fall are wiped away,
by windscreen wipers.
And lines of steel,
row upon row
form an unending line,
to the scrapheap.
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Literature
The legend of the Orange Diamond
In the crystal blue waters of Tropicia, a short swim from the coast of Benita island; there lies a dark and ominous black spot with a cave at the very bottom. It is not well known, but local legends call it the Cave of Death, and for good reason – few have entered,  fewer have returned. This, however, did not faze Andre, an intrepid diver with a wealth of experience diving all over the world.
Legend has it that the cave is home to the Orange Diamond; the most precious gem in the world. Anyone who owns this diamond is said be able to rule of the world.
Andre entered the vast cave through the hole in the top. Rays of bright blue light filtered in from above, stretching upwards seemingly forever and illuminating jagged rock on all sides. The diver seemed like a mere spec compared to the enormity of this cave.
Stalactites descended ominously from above like sharpened spears, and he noticed the cave growing narrower. As it did so, the rays of brilliant light now behind him grew l
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Mature content
Dementia :iconmackattack1991:mackattack1991 3 6
Literature
Time Heals Not
Time heals not these wounds
No scar is enough to bear.
No pain matches grief
No words describe such sorrow.
But we will never be broken
We will never let those with blood on their hands raise their heads in pride
For the murder of innocents
Will never be forgotten.
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Literature
Daydreamer
I'm blasting in a rocket ship,
I'm flying into space!
I'm driving in my racecar
and winning every race!
And now I'm going soaring
in my big red aeroplane.
I'm waving at the folks below,
who all look just the same.
And then I'll go out fishing,
on a lake that's clear and blue,
I'll catch the biggest fish I can,
and send a picture to you.
Daydreams are the place to be,
they really are so cool.
They're so much more exciting
than sitting here at school.
You can go on an adventure,
explore lands far and wide,
Or just relax on the beach,
and watch the coming tide.
Imagination's all you need
it's easier than it seems,
Oh what fun you'll have today,
In your very own daydreams.
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Literature
Little Bubbles
Little bubbles lined up straight
Little bubbles keep you safe.
Little bubbles standing tall
Little bubbles, oh so small!
Little bubbles cute and sweet,
Little bubbles lined up neat.
Little bubbles go beep beep!
Shh! Little bubbles: Go to sleep!
Little bubbles in a row,
Little bubbles go go GO!
Little bubbles clad with chrome,
Come, My Little Bubble, let's go home!
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Literature
I am Not a Narcissist.
I am beautiful
I am intelligent.
I am humble
I am dying inside (from all the inferiority that surrounds me.)
I am misunderstood
I am the greatest person of my time and many times to come.
I am strong,
I am powerful. Whole nations bow to my brilliance.
I am Neurotypical. Better than that
I am in fact Neurosuperior!
I am empathetic
I am strong willed, determined - a leader.
I improvised this entire poem.
I am a narcissist.
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Literature
Fav my poems plz
My poems are beyond comprehension,
I write them 'cause I just want attention,
Even though they're all lame,
And mostly the same,
Well pretend that they're all worth a mention.
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Literature
A Cub's First Summer Camp
A cub scout awoke, at his first summer camp,
His pyjamas wet through, and his sleeping bag damp.
Confused and half-dreaming, the little boy wept,
Whilst soundly the other children lay, and slept.
And in half-dreaming state, they ran and they played,
they teased and they tuanted, for they knew why he stayed.
But then when Akela heard her little cub cry,
she changed his pyjamas, set the old ones to dry.
And into a lovingly soft tender sweep,
she wrapped me in blankets and rocked me to sleep.
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Literature
Slow Train
I peered back though the misty cafe window one last time as I left. Sauntering toward the platform, I found myself clutching my fresh, steamy Latte tightly within my gloved hand.
As I entered the slow train to Okinawa, I sought a spot where the floor vents provided the warmest glow rising underfoot. There I sat - curled up in an almost foetal position - and squashed my thick coat tightly against my body. Patiently, I waited for what seemed like an eternity, for the train to shut its doors.
It may seem paradoxical to love travelling alone as I do. Where the sights and sounds seem to amalgamate in the background. Where I can lose myself in thought and focus inward, ignoring all of the things around me, whilst simultaneously being warmed by their presence. It's a wonderful feeling - being surrounded by people, but being alone. The bustle of the city is my calm; my peace...
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Literature
My Compassion
I shouldn't have to have felt what you've felt
to understand how you feel.
I shouldn't have to have been hurt the way you have
to understand your pain.
I shouldn't have to have lived my life like yours,
to know why you're struggling to survive.
I have empathy.
Compassion comes not from mirrored experiences, but from listening and accepting, and wanting to help.
I don't have to go through all the same suffering as someone else just so that I can understand it.
Why would you wish that on anyone?
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Literature
Your Compassion
You shouldn't have to have felt what I've felt
to understand how I feel.
You shouldn't have to have been hurt the way I have
to understand my pain.
You shouldn't have to have lived your life like me,
to know why I'm struggling to survive.
You just need to have empathy.
Compassion comes not from mirrored experiences, but from listening and accepting, and wanting to help.
You don't have to go through all the same suffering as someone else just so that you can understand it.
I wouldn't wish that on anyone.
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Literature
Lojban
“We should learn Lojban,” the experts say
“The logical langauge! The Perfect way!”
“English is broken” they all enthuse
“So lets make a language we all can use!”
But a language of logic with the best of intention,
is forever corrupted by the very first exception.
They stand among rivers with stop signs in hand,
hoping, desperating, drawing lines in the sand.
When the gain traction, and fruits to bear,
Along come the people who just don't care.
If we learn Lojban, it will be corrupted by those cannot use it properly, and those changes will stick.
va'o lo nu mi'o cilre la lojban kei ko'a ba corrupted lo ca n't selma'e lo properly e lo nu galfi lo ba grana.
If we learning Lojban, he will corrupted the can't ride her properly and that changes will rods.
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Literature
If Dreams have Meanings.
I recently began looking back at an old dream I had about a little boy who had autism.
I had to babysit him for the day, and in that time I got to know him well. He was sweet and bubbly, and he had a fascination with steering wheels and old computers. He had a stack of old desktop machines in various states of dissambly and repair, and he knew them all intimately.
He could talk at length about his computers, none of which ran anything newer than Windows 95; so they were basically useless! He knew about their hardware and history, and it was fascinating to hear how technology had progressed so quickly.
He also had a cassette player. It wasn't anything special; just an old boombox with two tape decks used to copy tapes - it's main feature which he almost never used.
Nothing special it may have been, but to him it might as well have been made of gold! He took it everywhere. He recorded the sound of his voice, repeating lines from his favourite films and songs with word for word accuracy.
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Literature
Leaving the Cemetery
Leaving the cemetery
Tears half dried on her face
She merges in traffic.
Alone in a car,
in a bubble,
cocooned from life,
and running from death.
The radio blares silence,
and diesel engines click.
Tears that fall are wiped away,
by windscreen wipers.
And lines of steel,
row upon row
form an unending line,
to the scrapheap.
:iconmackattack1991:mackattack1991
:iconmackattack1991:mackattack1991 4 10

Favourites

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Literature
Of Gods
Prometheus-skinned
Icarus-limbed
Muse-fed
Eros-led
Yet only
my words
are immortal
:iconTheLunaLily:TheLunaLily
:iconthelunalily:TheLunaLily 14 4
Literature
Tuned to a Dead Channel
wake
up
stuck, imagine self lost somewhere,
somewhere where torso does not go,
mind floating above a sinking fortress of gold
wake
up
open, see television screen with melting characters,
reach out and touch them empty faces,
hit wall with thirsty anger only to land amongst pixel shards
wake
up
gears, mind works out geometry,
human being left behind by symmetry,
walk the plank of mimicry,
leave them behind a wall of meat
wake
up
shadowy shape loom before me,
let me widen mouth for I am not controller,
SCREAMED
I am awake...
awake in a
permanent
sleep
:iconphnks:phnks
:iconphnks:phnks 8 4
Literature
The Boy's Dream
A boy
No less than 12
Gazes at the stars
Dreams to be an astronaut, an explorer
For he wants to reach the stars
His father looks his at him
Tears streaming down his cheeks
Doesn't utter a word to him though
After a year the boy becomes an orphan
Living through each day is torture
He doesn't give in though
For he wants to reach the stars
Hard work and determination reward him
For a decade he amasses great wealth
For he wants to reach the stars
Now the boy has become a man
The man has a boy of his own
But the boy doesn't have a mother
Just like the man didn't have when he was a boy
The man has achieved many successes in life
All because
He wanted to reach the stars
Now the man can reach the stars after all
But he doesn't want to leave his son
Like his own father left him
All alone
With great reluctance
He gives up on his dream
But every night till he dies
Continues to gaze at the stars
When he dies
His son dedicates himself
To fulfill his father's dream
After many failed attempts
The son
:iconAreejs:Areejs
:iconareejs:Areejs 8 3
Sunset on the river Spree by RoodyN Sunset on the river Spree :iconroodyn:RoodyN 33 7
Literature
Only Yesterday Remains
Lost in a soft paradise of
whispered promises
we hold each other
tight
Tomorrow seems a long
time away …
Yet in only a few short hours
it will be with us
and reality will set in;
Our today has been
and gone now
So only yesterday
remains
:iconsevvysgirl:sevvysgirl
:iconsevvysgirl:sevvysgirl 14 12
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mackattack1991
Andrew
Artist | Hobbyist | Varied
United Kingdom
My name is Andrew and I live in a small town north of London. I was born in South Africa and moved to the UK when I was just 8 years old! I enjoy doing art in my spare time for fun, and my favourite medium is scratchboard! Thanks for viewing! :)
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:iconthelunalily:
TheLunaLily Featured By Owner Jun 25, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you for the favorite!
Reply
:iconmackattack1991:
mackattack1991 Featured By Owner Jun 26, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome! :hug:
Reply
:iconthelunalily:
TheLunaLily Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Kiss by vafiehya Thank you for faving my poem “Of Gods”
Reply
:iconmackattack1991:
mackattack1991 Featured By Owner Jun 22, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
You're welcome! :hug:
Reply
:iconcabbagepellets:
cabbagepellets Featured By Owner May 31, 2018  New Deviant
Thanks for the fav :D
Reply
:iconphnks:
phnks Featured By Owner May 1, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thanks for the fav! Took a mild stroll through your gallery, some good stuff there... and you really like exclamation marks it seems! 
Reply
:iconmackattack1991:
mackattack1991 Featured By Owner Edited May 2, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks you so much! :hug:
And people often tell me I use those darn things to much. ^^;

I think the reason is because my typing reflects, to a large degree, the way I speak. When I talk about something  (particularly something I am passionate about), I tend to emphasise key words and use a lot of inflection. Thus, I tend to type with my own voice in my head, and just naturally add exclamation marks on points where I would be emphasising what I'd be saying if I were speaking. That comes across as me lacking the grammatical skill to understand which sentences warrant the use of them, and without hearing the inflection I use when speaking, the reader is left unaware which sentences they are supposed to exclaim. Yes! ALL OF THEM! :XD:
Reply
:iconphnks:
phnks Featured By Owner May 3, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Do you do any like poetry slams/spoken word/open-mic stuff? What you're describing sounds like you would enjoy it. I enjoy going to an open-mic every now and then and I barely use any exclamation marks lol
Reply
:iconmackattack1991:
mackattack1991 Featured By Owner May 4, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Never really thought about it. I think I'd enjoy it as long as I don't have to improv.
Reply
(1 Reply)
:iconwor-d-rizzle:
Wor-D-Rizzle Featured By Owner May 1, 2018
thank you so much for the :+fav: on "what if you knew...?" :hug:
Reply
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