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Showing posts with label lawyers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lawyers. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 04, 2024

THE CON MAN AND THE DEVIL

by Scott Talbot Evans


Graphic via Red Bubble


There once was a con man of ill-gotten wealth.
Many counterfeit trophies cluttered his shelf.
He prided himself on his great mental health,
And made known to the world he’d done well for himself.
 
He built monuments, palaces, and towers so high,
That they threatened to poke God Himself in the eye.
The man was so crooked, unscrupulous, and sly,
That Satan decided to give him a try.
 
“Nice to meet you. I’m the Prince of Perdition.
I can see you’re a man of blinding ambition.
If it’s not too much of an imposition,
I offer a once in a life proposition.”
 
“What are you bothering a busy man for?
Can’t you see I have houses and women galore?
What could you possibly add to my score?”
The devil grinned widely and simply said, “More.”
 
“You will boast and brag. Your horn will be tooted.
The masses will fall for you as if struck by Cupid.
They won’t even notice their pockets you looted.
They will believe every word you say, no matter how stupid.”
 
“You will split the world in chaotic division.
Your critics will charge you with crimes and derision,
But my lawyers will twist every fact and decision,
So you won’t spend a single minute in prison.”
 
“I need more. I want banners to herald my name,
In bold proclamation of my unequaled fame.
The public must shower me with so much acclaim,
That it puts Alexander and Caesar to shame.”
 
“You drive a hard bargain. I find you quite droll.
In return for all that, you must pay a small toll,
A possession you won’t even miss on the whole,
A little thing commonly known as your soul.”
 
“Is that all?” The cheater started to squeal.
His eager excitement he tried to conceal.
“Looks like I found myself quite a steal.
Okay, buddy, you’ve got yourself a deal!”
 
They smiled and squinted. Their slimy hands shook.
Lucifer wrote the fool’s name in his book.
And that little scribble was all that it took,
For somewhere in hell an ember started to cook.
 
The man’s fame suddenly started to rise.
Half the world believed all his terrible lies.
His power and ego increased to king-size.
He was hailed as a savior in his followers’ eyes.
 
He invented false dangers to control people’s fears
And inflamed their angers to arouse their cheers.
His empire grew on prejudice and smears,
And contempt from his critics was music to his ears.
 
He hobnobbed with hoodlums, gangsters, and whores.
Tyrants and despots were his secret mentors.
He suppressed opposition with threatening roars,
And brought discord and riots to once peaceful shores.
 
He had unholy power to swindle and cheat.
Honesty and integrity took a back seat.
In no time he rose to the world’s highest seat.
But he could not rest ‘til his gluttony was complete.
 
Every ruler and judge was under his heel.
At his feet, the world’s nations were obligated to kneel.
All the lands and possessions were marked with his seal.
And then he sighed, because there was nothing left to steal.
 
He heard a crack, and there was a puff of smoke.
The demon stood before him in a long flowing cloak.
From the heart of darkness a raspy voice spoke.
“The dream is over. Time for you to get woke.”
 
Beelzebub grinned like a fiend and he said,
“The clock has run out, now. Guess what. You are dead.
Forget all the dreams in your silly head.
Fall to your knees and fill yourself with dread.”
  
“I have kept my bargain to the final dot.
The whole world and everything in it is what you got.
You had your fill, and that is saying a lot.
And now I shall take what is mine on this very spot.”
 
The snake’s eyes glowed and he sounded a gong.
A choir of demons sang a tormented song,
But the whole thing went on for a little too long.
“What is happening here? Something is wrong.”
 
The serpent looked for the man’s pain to begin.
But there wasn’t any, to his great chagrin.
From the corpse’s eyes arose a sparkle from within,
And his wrinkled lips curled into a wicked grin.
 
“I told you I was the best dealmaker bar none.
You shoulda read the fine print when you first begun.
I agreed to give you my soul when all was done,
But the joke’s on you, Satan, because I never had one.”
 
The cheat convulsed with laughter to the point of tears.
The joyful sound burned like acid on the devil’s ears.
“This is the first time I’ve been swindled in all my years.
He bowed. “From one con artist to another, cheers!”


Scott Talbot Evans' poems are published in Poetry Salzburg Review, Samjoko Magazine, and Straight On Till Morning. He was twice a finalist in The New Yorker caption contest and won the GEVA Theater 2 Pages/2 Voices competition and the Script Studio Scriptitude Competition. His work appears in Amazing Stories, Weekly Humorist, Shoreline of Infinity, Creepypod, and Crimeucopia. His novel The Love Police was released last year. He is working on his sixth book.

Tuesday, May 07, 2024

PHOENIX CITY COUNCIL VOTES TO PAY $4 MILLION TO LEGAL EXPERTS TO DELAY RELEASE OF DOJ INVESTIGATION

by Susan Vespoli




During a March 6 Phoenix city council meeting, family members of people killed by the city’s police department demanded that local officials stop interfering with a federal probe. The Department of Justice (DOJ) launched an investigation into the city of Phoenix and the Phoenix Police Department in 2021, citing concerns over the department’s use of deadly force and other potential civil rights violations. —The Appeal, March 14, 2024


The Phoenix City Council voted Wednesday to spend up to $4 million on legal services for representing the city amidst the ongoing U.S. Department of Justice investigation. In 2021, the federal agency announced it was launching an investigation into the city's police department. The results of the DOJ investigation have still not been revealed. City officials have expressed frustration with how DOJ has conducted its years-long investigation and told the federal agency they're unwilling to agree to a resolution that "cedes control to the DOJ" in the form of a consent decree. —12News, May 2, 2024


Squirming-ly Vermin-ly
City of Phoenix
pays millions to legal
teams to squelch facts

in DOJ report.
Accountability?
Hell, no. Deny, delay,
hide, cover ass.


Susan Vespoli writes from Phoenix, Arizona, where the City's police department has been under investigation by the Department of Justice since 2021. Will the report ever be released? Not if the City Council can help it.

Thursday, February 11, 2021

SKUNK HOUR

by Martin H. Levinson


 

His lawyers inept,
meandering, defending
the indefensible dimly
and dully, doing everything
they can but talk about the
constitutional question of
whether an out of office
president can be tried for
inciting insurrection, as the
Senators sitting in judgment
suffer their ambling, rambling
arguments made in response
to the House Managers logical,
precedent-based contentions
that a carny US Chief-of-State
can be punished for stirring up
mob violence and an invasion
of the Capitol that a video
montage has detailed in all
its nauseating horror.


Martin H. Levinson is a member of the Authors Guild, National Book Critics Circle, PEN America; the book review editor for ETC: A Review of General Semantics, and a contributing editor to The Satirist. He has published nine books and numerous articles and poems.

Tuesday, September 04, 2018

AND THEN THERE WERE LAWYERS

by Alejandro Escudé




A garden of lawyers planted with the utmost care,
            petunia lawyers, and rose lawyers, daisy and sunflower lawyers,
as the sun sprinkles its salty light over the plots; at night,
            the moon rises like a white crow flying in eternal circles,
the stars spit old blue mucus—lawyers blooming among lawyers,
            suited in pink, lilacs, oranges, the soil healthy, dark, biblical
beneath their lawyer root-feet. They dig deep down into the earth,
            so far down their defenses are solid as stone. The judge
presides over the seasons. He of the morning cloth, he of the pit
            and tractor. Green and motorized. His honor the plough,
his honor the keeper of the books. One lawyer reflects more
            expressions than ripples in a water trough. His head a skull,
his mind an exactitude of inexactitudes. “Truth isn’t truth,”
            he would often be heard whispering to the beetles that punctuated
the documents of creation. Indeed, the rain excised no tax
            on him, this silly, ill-begotten snake who swore only to protect
the politicians politicking from stump to stump like magpies.
            When the day comes pure, cold against the volcanic solitude,
think of the low road that sinks beneath the river. No flies
            near the dead-spaces. Let’s not forget, justice isn’t human.


Alejandro Escudé published his first full-length collection of poems My Earthbound Eye in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches high school English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.

Wednesday, May 02, 2018

LAWYERING

by Alejandro Escudé





There’s no free association on the mood-bus.
The mind of the President’s lawyer and his team
of modules; so that, you have a blank canvas
awakened at birth to reveal the edgings of industry.
He says, “I hope he’s doing alright.” The word
“alright” refers to business. It’s not Jesus dying
on the splintered cross, or Peter observing
the feet of his followers. I see a guitar hanging,
Mussolini, his mistress, Italians spitting words
like spit and spit like words over their corpses.
I dated a girl once I met on a website, beautiful
and dumb. She had one phrase she’d text
over and over again: “Are you serious?”

That was it. “Are you serious?” I wasn’t serious.
The ground gave way, or the server, and I saw
she was a myriad of connections. Her system
opened before me and she posed on a shell,
beckoning with her infinite curls. And he was
there to defend me, the businessman-lawyer,
extending the trial. My voice trilling with anger.


Alejandro Escudé published his first full-length collection of poems My Earthbound Eye in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches high school English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.