T. P. Kaaos, Championed by Edward Marlo Ruiz
The Champion Series
Guest author:
Presenting the fiction of:
Dear Reader,
Welcome to another presentation of an absolute underrated gem in the fiction community. T.P. Kaaos and their publication: Alchemy of Ink. Which is full of wonder and sunshine, and sometimes, rain clouds.
Kaaos is the type of writer that…
This article is part of Literary Salon issue #4.
Kaaos is the type of writer that deserves every kind of flower that there is. They have done an absolute mountain of work in supporting this community and other writers within it.
But not only do they support others here, they also write damned good fiction. With the type of voice that sears the words onto your still beating heart. It’s the type of words that speak secrets to the soul and body.
They have a term for it; Kaaos Magic. Their writing is a spell that’s put upon the reader. Words that weave wonder and peace.
Like I said though, the words also touch on the rain. The clouds overhead that stick to the brain. In general, they have it all.
So like last time, I will let their work speak for itself. With some of my favorites they have to offer.
Where Fates Divide —
Three weeks of riddles, dust, and stars,
of whispered maps and midnight scars.
Through winding roads and weathered stone,
we chased a fate not yet our own.You turn to me—our fingers tight,
your gaze a question edged in light.
One path will lift, one path will break,
one step decides the course we take.
In Kaaos fashion, this piece of poetry runs through a spacey narrative. Something you can decide on where it goes next.
The words wrap you something ancient, something wild. You creep along with the rhymes and crawling flow and find yourself immersed in starlight and sand. You feel the grains of sea salt against your skin as Kaaos describes it. The warm lush of the breeze. All of it creates an atmospheric world that you can’t help but stay in.
And Kaaos doesn’t just do stretching poetry, but they’re also sharpened in traditional fiction as well. I mean, all types of fiction honestly —
The Life of a Misunderstood Pest —
The nematode drifts beneath it, drawn to warmth.
A thread of breath, soft and seeking.
Its body curves through the roots like a question,
never asked aloud,
always waiting for an answer.There is no language for wanting this deeply.
Merely closeness in the hope that something will remain.
This is one of my favorite pieces from Kaaos and this little pest has lived rent free in my brain since I read about it.
I feel this piece embodies what Kaaos does with their words. It is a cocoon to be wrapped inside. You mold with the shape of the story, the pace, the flow. You get into the feeling of it all. The feeling of a damn nematode. In relation to us, the human body and mind. And believe me when I say that ending double line HITS you. So please, feel free to take a better look..
And now, onto the graying shadows.
The Places Grief Broke —
You freeze, keys still in hand.
The grocery bag slides to the floor.
The porch light flickers.
You haven’t changed the bulb since—since before.Their laugh catches the hallway light like a memory half-lived.
You step aside.
Grief touches all.
Kaaos offers more on loss and longing too. Excellent pieces that put broken fragments together for only a moment. The work, as I have said, speaks for itself here.
In general, Kaaos is absolutely underrated. They truly deserve more eyes because what they write on top of being an actual nebula just begs to be inhaled like crack—to put it simply. Their voice blooms through every single piece they write and their grip on feeling is an actual wonder to behold.
It is the type of writing to admire. I cannot wait to see what the future holds for them because it is indeed brighter than how much they shine through already!
As per last time, below is a list of their most recent work to sift through:
And I send you off with the meaning of Kaaos Magic understood. Thank you for giving us the time to present an awfully underrated writer. Keep a tissue nearby.
With blood, Edward.Marlo.Ruiz
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I just realized I was reading this in my dream last night, but the Literary Salon Magazine image didn't post and instead displayed a message that there was an issue with the copyright holder.
Now that I'm awake, thank you for doing this.
There are not enough words to describe how thankful I am—but if I could bottle the feeling in my chest right now, it would glow.
To be seen this clearly, this gently… to have my work held with such care.
Thank you for championing what I do Edward. For naming the things I can never quite say out loud. For giving space to the stories I pour every breath into.
Every line of your post felt like a hand held out in the dark—a reminder that I’m writing into something real. That these stories matter. That someone, somewhere, found something worth carrying in the words I nearly kept to myself.
From the very depths of me—thank you. For the light. For making me believe again in the quiet power of me.
I will always remember this!