Articles, essays, poems, short stories and tips on writing

My words, they are like a whirlwind, uncontrollable and so capricious. Some of them i must find a way to keep them at bay, otherwise...they'll hurt someone for they are so sharp and cold at times and at others they're as if they were bathed in honey and sprinkled with nut bits, they actually feel very springy... and I miss those ones, specially when they need to be written. So I just let myself go, I let myself be drowned by them and I summerge and become their slave. They are the body of the imagination, hopeful, dull and fascinating. I guess they are the right combination as nothing should be uniformed, but rather a little of everything here and there to make and construct a perfect form.  These words, those words, palpitating in my head, begging to be set free drill my soul and as soon as I release them, a combination of satisfaction and sadness invade my senses, simply because they shape up a dream, and in that moment they become real, they become an alternate reality of wh...

so by Jose Quintero

THE WORLD I once wrote that if I stopped writing I would stop living or something like that. Nowadays, it is slightly complicated to gather my thoughts into logical sentences or to pour out my feelings into words. Lately it has been exhausting and overwhelming even to make simple decisions or to have a good night sleep, basically because of what is happening around the world and also because of trying to make out people’s reasons for making others suffer. I try to understand the nature of all disagreements, however the result becomes futile. I just can’t seem to comprehend the language of what is going on, and of the people behind it. I just feel I don’t fit anywhere due to my lack of understanding or even worse: my lack of mundane experience! I mean, many people, friends and acquaintances know how to move and get around situations I have no clue of, or that they possess the right information in their heads to certain issues. And no, I wasn’t born yesterday, and no, am not mentally c...

  THAT DAY a blurry memory Where can you start when all seems so confusing… like a blurry photo taken in the 70s? It all seemed so extraordinarily huge and yet small. It is like experiencing a side reality in which everyone is overpowered by a painful passing, whereas you, you are just experiencing a ball of emotions ranging from inexplicable pain to surreal calmness. That day I had finished taking a shower while some rock band song played in the background, blasting with fury my ears. Perhaps it was a way to soothe the pain, perhaps it was a way for materializing my grief. Up to this day I still do not have the answer. I still do not have the answer to many questions. I just only know I am here, in front of my laptop screen while listening to a relaxing piano tune with the sound of rain in the background, which I have discovered calms me down incredibly. I can’t seem to recollect the clothes I wore on that day, or how my short walk from my uncle’s home to my grandma’s was. I...

  How long does it take to forget? I wish I knew the answer to this one, I wish I had more than just a handful of broken answers that most of the time I must put together to make sense and yet, I end up with more questions than before. I wish it was easier to forget names and places so that even a fleeting remembrance won’t hurt so much, but to no avail I try and try, just to find myself where I started. Should I have to stick to the saying: “time cures everything”? I am not sure that’d work, for the memory is still there. It’s like being tied up and not being able to escape. I am not talking about an unpleasant memory, but just some, which are painful to remember because the one I should be sharing those memories with is no longer by my side and it is hard to come to terms with that idea, to make a logical sense of it. Doesn’t mater how much I try. They always come back: a lovely smile, waiting for the bus to go back home, or just simply a good night kiss before going to bed...

CAPPUCCINO “A cappuccino and a slice of chocolate cheesecake, please” – Just another day, although this time he simply decided to go out since he felt like relaxing in a café and dedicate some time to his writing. The place wasn’t bustling with customers and the atmosphere offered a much-needed peace and quiet for his writing and perhaps a little out of the ordinary place for writing since mostly he’d do it at home. The place felt warm and cozy, with dimmed lights and a comfortable, green-velveted chair and a nice sturdy table to sit at. A sip of warm coffee with a touch of cinnamon felt great in his palate as he proceeded to take out his laptop in order to write. “What should I write about?” – A simple question yet charged up with uncertainty. But what does it take to write if not a simple word or a sentence and see it how it flourishes like a flower in spring. The magic is there, and it doesn’t matter the topic because our minds are so creative by nature that one would just start...

Have you ever felt that inner peace while being in the eye of the storm? It's kinda weird, isn't it?  I mean, sometimes I wonder why I feel so calm even though I am up to the neck with tons of things going on in my life and yet still I couldn't figure out the answer. But I guess it has to do with something stronger than me, than my inner will. Of course, I am not consciously ruling out my own will power, although I feel there's something more than just that. I'd never been a traditional believer, but I've always known that God somehow, someway, has been a part of my life ever since I can remember. I guess it basically comes down to the influence of my relatives and close friends. I even remember, just as I am typing these lines, a time when my dearest aunt woke me up really early on Christmas Day or so, in order to attend mass at the local church which was just a couple of blocks away from my grandmother's home. I remember there was some singing and the that...

  NO MORE I have forgotten so many things, Just a bunch of broken memories is all I have as I try hard to collect them, And they run through my fingers like water, as if escaping. Recue me, I implored, though the noose gets tighter and tighter without a hope. I look at my reflection in a broken mirror, And that reflection waves goodbye while my bloodshot eyes cry, Pushing me down into despair. From the past I try to collect my old self, this one being already broken by pain, And I stare at the stars though I cannot reach them, So I tighten the noose around, I failed to belong, and my home is long gone. Watch me as I slowly fall with broken wings, I cannot fly anymore, The castle crumbles down alongside with all I had, The steps adorned with flowers and glasses of wine are no more. Watch me as I cease, as I come to an existence halt and all around fades away.

  I – memory I saw myself wandering aimlessly through the streets of my mind, to the point where I got lost within myself. Being aware of such a situation is overwhelming and exhausting, just that I do not feel it in my body but rather in my soul which helplessly decays and squirms in pain. I still seem to be unable to fathom the existence of this cagey feeling of loss which envelops everything around, like an ivy trying to extend its reach to everything it can touch, perhaps with the aim of smothering anything around. I extend my arm as if trying to reach you, to sense you or even feel the touch of your silky skin, yet all I can find is emptiness, as if I have been taken away into the void. So, I return to my mind and once again I get lost. Perhaps that reality is much more merciful and forgiving than being broken into pieces just by not knowing where you are. I am barely able to remember the last time my eyes contemplated your extraordinary self with that rainy auburn hair ...