Posted in Inspirational


Actually I didn’t have anything to write for this particular publication until I received a call from someone very dear to me and this gave me the edge I needed. I noticed that we bring ourselves down in one way or the other due to one or few things we face. The truth is that self-pity is a natural phenomenon of which humans face and it’s a very hard feeling to drive away, but have you ever wondered that there is a very simple cure to this self-pity. Well, if you don’t know then I’ll be very glad to share it with you. Our journey has been smooth so far and I just got to the part where I discuss the cure for self-pity. The simple logic there is that self-pity is self-inflicted and can only be cured by self-confidence. That sounds quite funny right? But have you ever been in a situation where you felt heart-broken because of a particular situation or a breakup? In most cases you are the one that helps “you” to get back on track; well there are some instances where you receive help from friends and other people around but the basic point there is that “it’s only you that knows where the pin is struck and how to get it out, unless you describe it to others“. Well, that might not have been what you were expecting but if I’m wrong about this then try and count how many situations you have been into and if most of them wersolved by you relying on yourself. I hope you won’t mind if I end this with a poem on self-pity since that is the major thing I do and probably love doing…


I was cut short

And I lie on the rock hard ground alone

With no one by my side but my hope and my smile

I look up and all I see are blinding rays of the blistering sun

Then I look down, deep into my soul and I weep

This time there was no one to bring me back up

So what do I do?

A thought then came to me

Do what you know how to do best and smile

I did

And guess what

I was back on my feet


Posted in Dear diary, Inspirational


I woke up just like any other day and all i could just think of is the phrase “Abuse me very well“, then i started to remember my days in secondary school when we used to joke and whine and call each other unnecessary funny names. Then i didn’t really know how to whine but i for sure knew how to laugh to those jokes.

The awkward part is that we sometimes whine about the persons looks and shape, what the Yorubas call ” ebu ara “. I was quite short then and my nose was quite big also so i knew my place was to just sit back and laugh to the stand up comedy. Although there were times i was picked on also but i sha survived.

My point here is about PERFECTION and ACCEPTANCE, i used to think that some people were made perfect while some others were not, until i got to know that no one is truly perfect unless you learn to accept yourself for the person you are.

The truth is that if you don’t accept yourself for who you are you will never feel or learn to appreciate yourself. Lemme give you a scenario, while growing up i and my younger brother were battling with the same height and i was always angry that he would disrespect me or people would soon start calling him the elder brother and me the younger. I didn’t look at the other properties i possess, i didn’t look for my own inner height as i should, i didn’t accept my perfection in other things. Well the truth is that he is now taller than me now but i am glad i was able to accept that before he became the giant he is.

My point is that you have to learn to accept your flaws irrespective of what they are and use them to your advantage. “You are beautiful just the way you are”.

Well i still have to write a poem because that’s what i do. And please do well to follow and comment, i would really appreciate your opinions and contribution.


I walk down the street and you laughed

I dance the way i can and you laughed

I dress in what i have and you laughed

You know what, i also laugh

Do you know why?

I have found the secret to perfection

Looking deep back at you i see your flaws also

But i choose not to use them against you


Because I’m aiming for a better me

Sanyaolu Olubunmi (Mcbumnik)

Accepting who you really are and working on making yourself a better you is the key to perfection – Olubunmi Sanyaolu

Posted in Dear diary, Inspirational


So this one corner dance and act is presently taking over the net and i only saw the dance just yesterday. I was so desperate to find out what people have been hissing and ranting about that i started asking my classmates if any of then have the video of any clip.

To my surprise those that had it said they had deleted it and this grew my suspicions… Well to cut the story short, i finally decided to hunt for it on Instagram and all i could see was people climbing poles and looking for any corner or edge to dance the song with (Truthfully its very hilarious).

This blog is mainly known for poems so i’d do well to write one but not based on the dance though.


It was a lonely day

All i could think of was fame

I took my notebook and i wrote myself a play

Of how i want life to turn out for me i pray

Rolling in the latest car

And having the perfect bae

Then i just heard my friend say

Baba you better leave that one corner you dey

His shout brought me back to reality

And i saw sense in what he said

“…leave that one corner…”

Motivated i was

To go far in life you need to leave that comfort zone

And leave that corner

You need to explore

Sanyaolu Olubunmi (Mcbumnik)

Majority of us tend to live our life at a corner but the moment we break lose we’ll see that the room has a lot in store and it even has a door to a world that could be explored – Olubunmi Sanyaolu

Posted in Dear diary, My Love Story


I have liked her for more than two years
I tried to escape the feeling
So I decided to move on with my life
Not knowing that I’m moving in circles
Now I’m back at my starting point
All I could ever imagine
Is packed in one mind and body
In one being who I share many realities
Talking of intelligence
Talking of beauty
Talking of a person with a plan for the future
Talking of a person who would never set for less
All packed in one mind and body
But she is far from perfect
That I can accept
But she looks down on others
That I can’t accept
Why? I just can’t explain
She hardly listens and does only what she feels
‘Please listen to my advice’ I’d say
‘Don’t tell me how to do my things’ she’d say

I wish she could just listen
Because all I want for her is the best and I have my reasons
My heart has long been locked in her prison
And the gate is open with a choice given
I can decide to leave or stay
But the future is dim and gray
She wouldn’t make me happy and so I say
I’m still in love with her but our love story is not so perfect
I’m the one with the issues because I can’t accept you just the way you are
And you like you the way you are
I’ve got my bad side but I’m willing to change for you
But would you change for me?
Sanyaolu Olubunmi (Mcbumnik)

Posted in Dear diary, Inspirational

A Chance

The strangest thing about life is that we all have a chance to choose which path we want. Although there are times when our paths are forced on us but we can choose to make the best use of the path to get us to our dream destination… You have been given a chance, its your decision to maximize it.

Opportunities come and go
Lucks come in the form of both good and bad
Decisions are at times life changing or deadly
The chances you get now shape your future
The people you meet along the way give you stories to tell
You have a chance to choose life and love
And also to choose death and hate
The chances are clear between success and failure
Just as they are clear when you choose the wrong path and a person lights up your way
The choices you make today makes you who you are tomorrow
Don’t be defined by your past
Choose a glorious future
#we are rising
Diary of a Young Poet
Sanyaolu Olubunmi (Mcbumnik)

Posted in Dear diary, Imaginations, Inspirational

My imagination. My strength

It’s very funny when I solve problems with my mind
And find drastic solutions just with my imagination
It’s very funny when you crush on someone
And you picture yourself dating the person
It’s very funny when am hungry
And I imagine that perfect delicacy my mum makes
It’s very sad when someone hurts you
And you can only keep quiet about it
It’s very sad when someone breaks your heart
And you imagination becomes shattered
But think of the possibilities
Think of the power of imagination
Think of the strength it yields
And think of the impact you can make to your generation.
#we are rising
#Diary of a young poet
Sanyaolu Olubunmi (Mcbumnik)

Posted in Anthology, CAP (Campus Association of Poets), Guest



I’m the wordsmith of the night,
when the night fox howls
with its entire might,
I dip my pen in ink
and find my muse, for tonight,
I want to punch my name into history,
Even if it’s for this one night.
For I’m a wordsmith,
Straight into your skull,
My words will hit.

Mr Waduud.



In the furnace of a blacksmith,
Spawns the roughly fine sword;
Finely processed by the swordsmith;
A tool in the hands of sages and inklords.

The sword leads, cutlasses and hoes follow;
Father of all harmless weapons.
Inform the sparrow to give tongue to morrow,
And morrow to take barrow from bimbo.

A shout out to all my sons abroad;
Tell them to sip from my pot of knowledge.
Use me as an antidote to save lives,
As I lie beneath the poetree.

Poetry is a double edged sword,
Piercing the souls of readers and bards.
A word weaving machine,
Dispensing the thoughts with poetic cards.



We Need Help.
soft made hard
rough made smooth
sinky made strong
thanks to the puncheon

we, like raw gold, thirst for a refining caress from the creator’s puncheon
so our acts may towards morality pave way.

our garden,  green and white
now dust-turn-brown is on the verge of a “pitiable pismal-dismal”. like noon handing over to dusk,  we have uncontrollably fallen off the high-heel that made us once a giant.  we need the savior’s touch!

our societal ills are resistant to pills
our heads are knaves
we need a clean shave
with your puncheon…
harden our land and make it not turn to a grave!
look not away,  for these we crave.


My pen, my sword,
Weaving to the clock’s tick,
Penetrating blocks,
Dividing bricks.

My pen, my megaphone,
Announcing to passers-by,
Breaking bones,
Soothing lullaby.

My pen, my music,
Appealing to my soul,
Enriching tonic,
Alluring tole.

My pen, my mystery,
Twinkling set of clusters,
Creating history,
Amazing wonder.

My pen, my muse,
Supplying my motive,
Providing clues,
Enhancing additive.

My pen, my puncheon,
Wielding with creativity,
Mending truncheons,
Mystifying captivity.



I lie to myself
When I say my poems do not depict my thoughts
I lie to myself
When I say I don’t get hurt
I lie to myself
When I say I like being alone
I lie and I know
But I also say the truth

They say the truth will set you free
So I lay down my truth
I love and I hate
That’s what makes me human
I feel jealousy because I care a lot
I have a lot of heartbreaks which is really sad
But I hide it under my smile

The truth is I smile so you won’t know my weakness
The truth is am not proud but I have a functioning Ego
The truth is i want my name to be written in history

But all I do is write in my diary.

Olubunmi Sanyaolu (Mcbumnik)



His quill is his sword
The parchment, his shield
The words he writes on it is authority
With these instruments he fights battles and wins wars,
Against the evils of this world
Revered by all and disrespected by none
His words are law for nations
He stays true to his art even during times of adversity
Making sure to uphold the truth and nothing else
He is a poet who shapes the world with his pen.



The crooked road has been punched
Thus made straight
Thanks to the punch
That makes way

For the society has danced
Into flame of shame
And all that snarled
Through the punch came
To witness the fame
In the fist’s name

In the field of thorns
The punch waded through
Now a road of torts
The punch made full

Thanks, the punch
The society renders a bunch




I am the mace,
I stand as your alibi of unity,
I am the gavel of morality,
I am the voice,
That speaks of your ‘heels,
I am like liver,
That metabolizes your nutrients,
I live,
You exist.

I am the wind,
That blows truth in the world,
I stand, when some minds want to bend,
I do not jubilate at a sight of immortality,
I do that, which will uphold the society,
I am alive for criticism,
I detest racism,
I represent every conscious minds,
I speak nothing but the truth.

I am poetry,
The one who speaks with authority,
Mother of creativity,
Father of morality,
Friend to a moral society,
Enemy to the follies of politics,
I am the symbol of your conscious minds.



Punch on me
As little as the sun rays
A touch so soft
Yet so destructive to blaze
Far above the reach of human thought.

Punch on me:
The raw metals,
The shining gold,
the glittering diamond petals
The beautiful emerald unfold

Punch on me:
Your nature no such felt
All creatures worth
The beauty of what’s ought
And my search will be all sought

Punch on me
The golden knowledge
The axe of fire
The sword of justice
The boldness of heat

Punch on me
For I am here to receive
The punch of transformation
To fight the fight of truth
I am desperate for the punch.

Justus Ogar.



Affirmation from the elders I seek
Considering the knowledge he has gained
Widely, then was it revealed to me
The mystery behind what I seek
The affirmation is the delight I get
Ye from the bleeding of my own pen
The confidence I derive from my hands
The pleasure I derive from adding
Oh to my own knowledge

Thou art the affirmation I need
Now that it’s been known by me
What I ye needed to do
Is work harder and build on it
Lest I become a better personality
And incoming generation can also seek
Affirmation from me thereof


I do express my words in pen
I do expose the deeds with words
I do make imaginations wide
I do make sake fake seems realistic
I do configure your thought to resemble mine
I do more than you can think with my pen
I do know for sure my own is mightier than the sword
I do need to remember it needs to be sharpened often
I do need to make sure its life is retained
Hence make
I do refill my ink
I do make sure it never hours dry.




Where they
Subtract one guilt
Add some ironic sugar
A bit of rhythmic ointment
Then garnish it with salty words
An image here and a symbol there
Personify it with the ills and norms therein
Then state their problems and woes a-lyrically
Proverbialise their thoughts or- state in clear terms
Then add Shakespeare without shaking the Sphere
Osofisan becomes the hoe to sow the sun
You know
In that place

That multiplication will be the shortened version of addition
So economic paralyses becomes historical euphemism
There is no room for defending epic successful failure
Then the hyphenated characters there, forever is lost
This is how you know that poetry isn’t just a diviner
It is a seer not just to command or demand
When it reprimands, that is the result
Of intellectual provocation
Then they enjoy in happiness
Drink this glass of wine ‘cos
Poetry is just extremely divine!




In the beginning, God created poetry.
Poetry birthed every thing.
First line ever would  be:
Let there be light.

Never of His words would go unfulfilled He said.
His blessings and rebukes through His words.

Prints became immortal sister of words.
Piercing the soul or soothing the heart.




I write in the wilderness of anger
Where i command the pen
To speak, write and proclaim
What it sees, feel and think.

Poetry sets from the North, East, South-West,
It is the mother of every children,
The one who does not have father
Yet, with many unborn generations.

Poetry is the voice
That does not have mouth
But with a melodious tone
‘Cos it wont sees not to tell but the truth.

Poetry is a soothsayer
That tells the truth
And proclaim authority
With a manifest audacity.

Poetry is a composition of verse
Exhibiting conscious attention to problems
Through the minds –
The ink through which it tell.

Poetry is the bile
That liveth  in the heart of the personnel
To correct ill manners of the society
And foster credibility of the moralities.




The prison is also for human beings
Saith their crappy voice against ours
And we thought we brought them on
So very better we Re-think
Forever seeking freedom; humans
Never running dry; our pens
Only tool they hate; our minds
Their first antagonist; the poets.

The long term memories
The day changing secrets
The sooth revealers
All God’s works are all ours
Powerful to rip apart
Unashamed to mend souls
Hope for the weak
Medication to the mind
Medievalist we are

With just a message, she’s off her feet
With lullabies in poem, he’s won over
With emotional poems, we stopped crisis
With written texts, we are all over
Got the keys to the locked gates
We hold the stamp to  blueprints
Alas, the voice of a poet resounds
The works of a writer talks
The beauty in our poems shines
And behold! Poets don’t die!
I’m a poet
I’m an icon
I’m a puncheon.




You were there,
Announcing yourself like the town crier,
And passing a message,
Like the sound from the talking drum.

You are here,
Bringing words together,
Creating a platform,
One that would project what you speak.

You will continue to be,
For words will not cease to be,
An edifice,
You will forever make out of them.

Whether you stand or sit,
In paper or in voices,
You will execute the purpose,
For which you exist.




Lines, stanzas – emotion
All in one, words flow
Anthology – attention
They are one in spirit – the glow

Never underestimate poem’s power
It always work where it could save
It’s nothing but a life saver
The true nature is a heart safe

I speak seventeen syllables
All combined to give a haiku
Five – seven – five words syllables
All fused in three stanza-coup

I’m a coup mastermind
Punching words to pierce the mind
Never scared of using metaphor
To cause my opponents fall

I’m just a learner who spew poetry
Although I can’t spell onomatopoeia
Or differentiate innuendo from irony
I’m not a faker but a word wielder

I write rhymes but worries about rhythm
Wondering if they could add up to create sonnets
Plus if poetry could be sung in church like a hymn
Maybe poetry will breed a lot of Saints.

To who that refuses to see beyond,
Survival of depression without expression
Is like driving a car with no petrol!
Poetry is my expression and petrol!

Emaculate Ife.



And who says a poet can be put into a dungeon?
When he has not lost his poetic lines,
Neither has he lost his muse,
He possess puncheon,
Forever with his bleeding pen.

Living with the memories of when poets are neglected,
Kept most poets in emotional trauma.
Their pens remain in everlasting oubliette,
So rusty and dusty,
Only the brave ones survived the agony of the atrocity.

Poets are meant to be celebrated,
Appreciated and not deserted,
For from their celebrations,
Come muse for more word masturbation,
Which produces life beautification and titivation.




Dark and frozen mysteries
You lighten and turn up stories
You unleash hidden truths
And teach mighty fools
You crawl into deepest thoughts
And make minds courts

You cut through noisy hearts
You rule over gentle minds
They rejoice in meeting their kinds
And they bring nature into art
They bring kings to meditate
And write even on slate

You hold famous legends
And can predict a good end
You exist to help souls
If they are ready to act their roles
You do no racism
For You join Euphrates to Mississippi

You are not god
But every poets knows your eulogy
For you are the voice of the poor
The lyrics of every couplet
And the power of greatest minds.

You are a puncheon
That sink through every mind’s
And you never cease to exist
For I heard Solomon wrote you an ode
And shakespare borrowed from thee
And I read of Oscars lines
And am sure you’ll travel till the world folds
And until the earth ceases.




Deep down am lost,
feel like am shredded,
but you found me and gave me hope
of years to come.

I wallow in nothingness,
you supported me with your loving ness,
day by day I’m charged towards my slate
wherein my life dwells.

when am dejected,
I find love in you,
you know the every me,
even the darkest side is like mirror to u.




Aged Golden Rod held  highly by world’s wordsmiths,
Powerful sturdy stamp that commands both kings and slaves.
Purely colourless translucent drinkable water of the wise,
Unsavory tasteless unswallowable solidity for fools.
Faceless faces breathing heavily with bodilessness,
Call it the immaterial substance that covers space,
Call it the whispering winds in hollow sphere,
The immortality of gone mortals like Shakespeare.

Should I say it is Fairy Power or Real Authority?
Or should I simply call it what it is; POETRY!




Give me this sword
Let me hold it by its neck.
Only this can show to the world
That it is I that has been ordained.

Just this I crave to have
A symbol of hope
For the nation that I have
Been ordained to dominate.

Give me my strength; our strength
Myself and Shakespeare’s
This poetry is our blood
Myself and others.
This poetry is our own authority.


Posted in Dear diary


I lie to myself
When I say my poems do not depict my thoughts
I lie to myself
When I say I don’t get hurt
I lie to myself
When I say I like being alone
I lie and I know
But I also say the truth

They say the truth will set you free
So I lay down my truth
I love and I hate
That’s what makes me human
I feel jealousy because I care alot
I have a lot of heartbreaks which is really sad
But I hide it under my smile

The truth is I smile so you won’t know my weakness
The truth is am not proud but I have a functioning Ego
The truth is i want my name to be written in history

But all I do is write in my diary

Olubunmi Sanyaolu (Mcbumnik)

Posted in My Love Story


Can someone help me out?
Help me with the meaning of love
I have seek and failed to find
I stopped searching yet it did not find me
I have seen things which may seem like love
Or could it all just be lust

The perfect curves of Omosalewa drives me crazy
Looking at her blessed structure has ran men mad
The view that destroy homes is what she bears
And her uncontended nature is not what I need
Should I say I love her because of what I see?
Can someone help me out?

Fatima is also a pretty and fun to be with lady
You both can talk and never get bored
The sad part is that Fatima has a “But”
Which makes me sad and sick at heart
She gossips and backbites and never hold secrets
Should I say I love her because she is fun and pretty?
Can someone help me out?

Adepeju does not look bad either
She is light, fresh and rich
Am not bad either but her standards are pretty high
She doesn’t care if my account goes empty
As long as she is happy
But I love her or so I think
Can someone help me out?

Pelumi looks perfect for me
But my heart says all ladies are the same
And my head says “you haven’t been lucky with these beings”
So I am deciding whether to sit this out
But anytime I think of the meaning of love
I think of Pelumi
Should I let her go because am scared?
Can someone PLEASE help me out?
Olubunmi Sanyaolu (MCBUMNIK)

Posted in Dear diary, Inspirational


Dear diary,

Boy wake up its time to go to the farm
Sleeping all day will only do you harm
Take the basket and hold it by the arm
Its the harvest period and we need to dig up the yams

Papa I just one more hour
I need to finish my dream
Lying under this cozy blanket is like a dream come true
The dream is sweet and I don’t think am through
Please just one more hour i beg of you

Mama already said I’ll join you later
I’ll do my chores and make the house look better
I’ll be fast because I know time is all that matters

Am scared to get out
Get out of bed
Get out to work
But If I don’t then I’ll probably die of hunger
Olubunmi Sanyaolu (MCBUMNIK)