Naija Poetry | When Lagos Devours Her Children

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

Tuesday 28 October 2025

When Lagos Devours Her Children

When Lagos Devours Her Children

‎© 2025 Olufemi David Ajulo

Once, Lagos was a mother — fat and kind,

Her bosom flowed with fish and grain;

She fed the poor, she housed the blind,

And bathed her children after rain.

But now the mother wears high heels,

Perfumed in greed, wrapped in disguise;

She sells her sons’ ancestral fields for foreign deals,

And calls it urban enterprise.

Maroko vanished — not a trace,

Swallowed by the city’s grin;

Ilubirin, too, has lost her face,

To towers raised on borrowed sin.

While Aspamda cried foul at creeping demolition,

Begging time to heal and recoup investment,

The city moved on — deaf to petition;

As Ladipo’s fate now looms,

And Computer Village lies sealed

Beneath heaps of dump-site dreams congealed

To Gatankowa’s wounded field.

Lagos, you breathe so sweet when kind,

Making strangers stubbornly claim your ancestry;

But when you blow hot, your rage unkind —

Like sea tempests devouring memory.

The sweetness you bring turns to chaff,

And the gnashing of teeth drowns the roar

Of bulldozers grinding dreams in half,

And homes that stand no more.

And now Oworonshoki turns Gaza’s kin,

Her mangroves maimed, her waters thin;

Majestic buildings, mercilessly torn,

Reduced to rubble by dawn to morn.

Ah, Lagos — bride of restless sandy gold,

Your laughter rings through tears and pain;

You pawn your past for what you’re told,

Then buy your soul back — once again.

Oh city of sandy gold and broken vows,

Your glitter feeds on buried names;

You dance on ruins, making many floaters,

Reversing destinies back to ground zero —

Where a room to start again looks bleak,

Where death seems nobler than to seek

Mercy in your scornful eyes.

Yet you call these scars — these forced displacements,

These tears baptized in demolition dust —

The noble claims of compulsory urbanization!

Lagos, the city that once nursed her brood,

Now feasts upon her children’s blood.

Her skyline gleams, her conscience bare —

And all that’s human gasps for air.

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