Naija Poetry | The Devil in the Policies

Ajulo David

Biography: Ajulo, David Olufemi is a multifaceted professional whose career and passions span technology, literature, business, and agriculture. Trained as a Telecom Engineer, he has built a solid reputation in the world of communication technologies, ensuring innovative solutions that connect people and empower industries. Beyond engineering, Olufemi is an internationally recognized Sales Professional, celebrated for his outstanding ability to build relationships, inspire trust, and deliver results across diverse markets. His creative spirit finds expression in revolutionary poetry, where his words resonate deeply with audiences, weaving themes of humanity, egaliatrian society, resilience, and the beauty of existence. As a passionate poultry farmer, Olufemi demonstrates his belief in self-sufficiency and sustainable living, nurturing not only livestock but also a philosophy of responsibility and care for the earth. At his core, Olufemi is a lover of nature and all that is good to behold. Whether through professional excellence, poetic insight, or his agricultural endeavors, he embodies a rare balance of intellect, creativity, and a profound appreciation for life’s simple yet profound wonders. The number to reach him is 07061394472.

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Ajulo David

Monday 20 October 2025

The Devil in the Policies

The Devil in the Policies

‎© 2025 David Ajulo. All Rights Reserved.

Our God's intercessors are on the mountains again. ,

Waging war with invisible chains.

They shout at shadows, curse the air,

Binding spirits that were never there.

They bind the water, fire, and sand.

As if creation slipped God’s hand.

Declaring victory, loud and grand —

O’er sins they never understand.

But down the hill, the devil grins;

He signs the laws that give birth to new sins.

He drafts decrees that break the meek,

And seals injustice every week.

His pen drips ink—black as night;

Each stroke erases someone’s right.

No horns adorn his powdered head,

No trail betrays the path he’s led.

His suit is neat, his handshake firm,

His smile conceals a crawling worm.

He prays in public, quotes verses,

Then doubles the widow’s tax—or worse.

They cry “Fire! Fire!” all through the night.

But justice hides from their holy sight.

The flames they call don’t purify;

They flicker low, then fall and die.

For the devil’s altar is the room.

Where policies bloom and morals doom.

He builds cathedrals, shuts down schools,

Feeds his dogs, enslaves the fools.

He funds crusades, yet steals the grain,

Then calls it grace when others pain.

He bows in church, with pious show,

But leaves the streets in hunger’s glow.

So let them bind, let thunder roll;

Let preachers chant to save the soul,

The devil they seek with holy yell,

Dwells not in hell, but governs well...

Too well for self, too cold for men —

And hides his pitchfork in the pen.

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