Contigo quiero amor y lascivia.
Un viaje sin retorno.
Un comienzo de pasos suaves.

Avanzar entre encuentros súbitos.
Sin choques turbios ni hostilidad.
Sin lugar para la monotonía.

Sólo pasión, entrega y ternura.

Un amor espléndido y sereno.
Un amor que hile el destino.
Un amor frenético y maleable.

Donde los besos de miel no callen.
Donde griten las miradas con pasión.
Donde brillen los roces furtivos.

Fuego y piel sean el festín diario.
Risas sirvan de postre eterno.

Sin cadenas ni hastío que nos frenen.
Un amor sin tormentos insoportables.

Hasta que el tiempo nos haga infinitos.

I am not hard to love.
I am not unreasonable.
And I don’t distribute headaches,
Like candy,
When I wish to express my emotions.
I simply express -
I am allowed to voice
My thoughts,
My opinions.
If it is a concept you cannot grasp,
Take the problem off my back
And dig deep within yourself.

a red rose in a field
red as a freshly painted barn
I see it, alone in that cornfield
like a lighthouse, standing, by the crashing sea.
the bees buzz around its crown
and the butterflies dance by the stalk
Oh what a sublime scene!
as simple as settling dust.

It grows here on its own
stretching its own root, finding its own waters
not like the vines that twist around the trees
but instead, it is almost its own sun
and almost its own earth
and as unbound as the river
flowing, past its own banks.

what a beautiful flower
what a beautiful dusk
a red rose
and a field of corn.

Who is the audience of our thoughts
when flooded by speech?

Who is the audience of our words
threaded through the needle of interpretation
sewn into a poem of subjection
when we all have something to say?

If she loves you, she'll hold you close,
Pray for you when no one knows.

If she doesn’t, she’ll let you go,
Like a stick a blind man throws.

I resent my classmates
for having nearly everlasting friends

but one shouldn’t blow out a candle
because he’s jealous of its light.

Why Don’t I Know What I Know Now, Then?

Why don’t I know what I know now then?
If I had known it, what would have changed?
What would have turned?

Would the wind have shifted,
or the earth beneath me cracked open sooner?
Would my steps have faltered,
or found firmer ground?

If I had known,
would I have walked straighter,
or would the knowing
have bent me differently?

Would I have spoken,
or swallowed the words all the same?
Would I have reached for the flame,
or let the fire fade?

But I did not know,
and so I moved as I did,
stood as I stood,
broke where I broke ..
and somehow, still,
I am here.

Now knowing.

Would it have mattered then?
Or only now,
when the knowing is too late to change,
but just in time to understand?

Who's that handsome,
Loyal,
Respectful,
Yoruba boy,
Building bridges with words,
Equations in his mind, poetry in his soul,
Taking his major in engineering .... though draining,
Like circuits wired for resilience,
Like steel bending but never breaking,
A poet, a weaver of words and more...

He speaks in the language of forces,
Balances moments like a tightrope walker,
Weaves metaphors like tensile cables,
Stretches thoughts like stress-strain curves,
Yet never fractures.

He flows like current through resistance,
Turning obstacles into energy,
Amplifying whispers into waves,
Designing foundations with syllables,
Bearing the load of expression and calculation.

Oh, it's me.
An architect of dreams and equations,
A bridge between logic and art.

If you return,
do not knock,
the door has memorized your hands.

If you leave,
do not turn back,
the wind carries only forward.