Long Lawsuits Poems
Long Lawsuits Poems. Below are the most popular long Lawsuits by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lawsuits poems by poem length and keyword.
He had do fight all odds
A man of unbreakable idealism
Alone with his ideas
A mysterious death at high sea
The truth will never be known
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Gegen alle Widerstände
Ein Mann mit ungebrochenem Idealismus
Alleine mit seinen Ideen
Mysteriöser Tod auf hoher Sea
Die Wahrheit wird niemand erfahren
-------------------------------------------------
En lucha contra todas probabilidades
Un hombre de idealismo irrompible
Solo con sus ideas
Una muerte misteriosa en alta mar
La verdad nunca será conocida
Note: Rudolf Christian Karl Diesel, 1858-1913, was a German engineer and the inventor of
the Diesel engine. He spent his youth until 1870 in Paris and surroundings. When being
extradited after the start of the German-French-War in 1870, Diesel and his family left for
London. He as a child travelled alone to Augsburg, Germany were he lived for five years
with his uncle and went to school there. He started studies of mechanical engineering in
1875 in Munich and applied for a patent of a „New and economical power engine“ at the
Emperial Patent-Office in Berlin. From 1908 on he developed the first functional model of
his engine with the financial assistance of the Krupp company. In January 1898 the first
factory for Diesel engines was built in Augsburg, Germany. A Diesel Engine Company was
inaugurated by autumn 1900 in London. The first motor vessels with a Diesel engine were
built in 1903. Diesel was at a state of bad health due to numerous patent-lawsuits. He was
not a good businessman and lost his complete fortune. On September 29th Diesel boarded the
mail-vessel Dresden to cross the Channel for Harwich to participate in a meeting of the
„Consolidated Diesel Manufacturing Ltd.“ in London. He seemed to be in a good manner when
he was last seen on board of the ship. On October 10th 1913 the crew of a Dutch
government pilot ship saw a body drifting in the water at heavy sea. As the body was
highly decomposed, the crew only got hold of some personal belongings (a pastille box,
purse, pocket knife and a spectacle case) which were later identified as Diesel's
belongings by his son Eugen. The real cause of his death was never clarified and his
dependants never believed in suicide, but in murder to steal Diesel's ideas. So his death
is still remains a mystery.
1MDB Walking Free
Talk about living charmed lives for some people in positions of power.....
The latest involve news of the latest appointments of certain financial figures...
News about President elect Donald Trump's handpicking of certain people..
To spearhead his primary rallying call to make America great again...
Looks to be a potential pooling of people linked to 1MDB unsavoury fame...
No less than 3 of his latest appointees are tarred with the 1MDB brush of shame...
The latter being of course undeniably the world's largest Ponzi Scheme....
Spearheaded by a well derided kleptomaniac who is mysteriously referred to as MO1...
MO1 is a Malaysian Official leader, who conspired with crooks, and siphoned off billions ....
In an financial scandal to involves investigation that requires no less than 8 nations..
Despite their dubious links to 1MDB shame through the company they once served ...
A most reputable, respected and established financial entity called Goldman Sachs...
Gary Cohn, Steve Bannon and Steven Mnuchin are 3 top notched economic advisers.....
Recently appointed into the incoming Trump administration as key treasury officers.....
Rivalling the considerable financial clout wielded by the office of the Treasury Secretary..
Will incoming Attorney General Jeff Sessions drop the lawsuits by the U.S. Justice Department....
Will he be advised to finally set aside the high profile case of pursuing financial justice...
To seize assets that were the result of US$3.5 billion that was misappropriated from 1MDB...
If that happens, people, remember this Bolehland of infinite possibilities...
If it happens, “Mr. Dirty” MO1 could suddenly become “Mr. Clean” Mahatma Gandhi.....
Hohoho...
With Santa Claus coming for Xmas dinner, what gifts are there for long suffering Malaysians...
More infinite possibilities from corruptible individuals, from here to the highly esteemed US Judicial Office?...
This saga of 1MDB being the source of various slush funds that netted billions for MO1...
Will justice be seen done in the long run or will money and power brokers prevail as one...
And we see history bear witness that even in the highest office in the Land of the Free...
Alternative possibilities can happen and somehow charm the corrupted into walking free?....
So slick and sexy. Purred past Temple Bar.
That throaty engine advertising punch.
All legal London, strolling out for lunch,
with turning heads declared, “Now that’s a car!”
So many barristers are – if not losers,
low earners and slow learners. I was one.
I, plodding back from Penge, felt put upon:
a plea, a pittance. Now for Holborn’s boozers.
That mean machine was not for saps like me.
I turned my face towards the threatening rain,
and started wearily up Chancery Lane.
A cup of tea and, hopefully, a fee
awaited me in Chambers. Alloy wheels
slid sleekly, silently – stopped at my side.
That car again! I watched the window glide
wide open. And I almost had to kneel
to see the driver. Handsome. Tall and thin.
The shirt was pastel pink, the tie was silk.
The suit was Savile Row, or of that ilk.
His words astonished me. “Well, clamber in!”
And then the penny dropped. It’s Alex R!
Agility has never been my thing,
so Reaney waited, engine idling,
as I shoe-horned myself into his car.
We’d known each other at the School of Law,
but then our paths had radically diverged.
Me, in pleas and poverty submerged,
and he, the wide blue skies of Libel to explore.
“I’ll run you back to Chambers – beat the rain.”
He asked me what had occupied my morning.
For him, the King’s Bench judges were adjourning.
I’d copped a plea in Penge – how to explain?
The major stars had Alex at the helm
when they unleashed their lawsuits on the press.
Defending thefts of bicycles – and less –
was my domain. He ruled a regal realm.
His clients of the moment, man and wife,
were household names. They’d sold their wedding day
to paparazzi, who refused to pay.
The plaint was something weird, like “Stolen Life”.
The man, from Delaware, big hair, and Jewish.
They crank out movies like there’s no tomorrow
(Chicago, Basic Instinct, Traffic, Zorro):
the girl, from Aberdare – think Cher, and shrewish.
To talk of money is a vulgar thing,
but I was desperate to know his fee.
The forty quid I’d earned, I wouldn’t see
for months to come. His wrists were dripping bling.
We’d be at Chambers in another minute.
“So, Alex,” (best to blurt the damn thing out),
“a case like that. You’re looking at … about …?”
He grinned at me and said, “you’re sitting in it.”
April 7—Figure something out in a poem
Why Trump?
For the last six years
I have been trying
To figure out
Why 40 percent
Of my fellow Americans
Still support Trump.
Still believe he was
The greatest President ever.
I just don’t understand it
Trump is a racist, misogynist
Sexual predator rapist, narcissistic
Fraudster, con artist, grifter.
Who has lost billions
Of dollars over the years
Never pay his contractors
Or his lawyers.
Has been involved
In over 3,000 lawsuits
And lost most of them.
Who lied over 30,000 times
When he was President
And at least 10,000 times
Since then.
Including the big lie
That he won the last election
Both in the popular vote
And in the Electoral College vote.
Over 90 courts concluded
That there was not there there
And that he lost the election.
There was no widespread fraud
The election was fair and square
And he lost.
Trump is the poster child
For the seven deadly sins
And is not a Christian
Far from it.
Yet to his deluded followers
God anoints him
To destroy the enemies
Of the Christian faith.
Now a court has declared
That he defrauded the State
Of New York
To the tune of 450 million dollars.
He stole top-secret documents
Denied he had them
Refused to give them back
And openly talked about them.
With people not cleared
For secret and top-secret
Documents.
He plotted to overturn
The election
And stay in power.
He openly promises
He will be a dictator
And round up millions
Of illegals, and political dissidents
When he is re-elected,
Why he is polling at 40 percent
And not 4 percent
Is beyond me.
The best I can conclude
Is he appeals to those who believe
The whole system is corrupt.
And is rigged against
Lower-middle-class
Christian white Americans.
They feel that they have been
Royalty screwed over by
The masters of the universe.
Who see workers
As nothing but
Disposable labor units
Of production.
And they are right
And Trump for his faults
Speaks to the forgotten men
And women in fly-over country,
That is why he is still popular
And could be re-elected
And if he is re-elected
Can American Christian fascism
Be coming?
While the church of today continues to wrestle with prominent issues,
like those of leadership, moral credibility, or fidelity of her members;
society remains critical to address certain weakpoints already at hand,
those seeming endless lawsuits against the clergy and religious members.
Moments in time unfold the wreckage of moral credibility, trust, and confidence;
it’s like a downfall of the human castle formed with the sanctity of wisdom –
continuity in liturgical sacraments, prayer, and reliance on biblical life;
with faith that God is involved in many events both ecclesial and personal.
It’s on a soaring journey where the Jewish concept of bitachon is needed,
to move on amid the struggles and other evolving deal of human problems;
so inextricable that make one stronger to cope with what life really means,
in this generation where a culture of arguments abounds in moral situations.
It’s sad to think of what’s going on; it’s painful to experience those afflictions,
the church grieves and suffers with all her leaders’ and members’ transgressions;
with the abuse of power, freedom, and prestige of being one of Christ’ ministers,
heaven weeps as evil triumphs to lead those priests into the world of failures.
The turbulent waves of scandals that have wounded the sacred priestly life,
people’s trust and faithfulness to the sacraments of life – a great turmoil!
the whole Catholicism has been shaken and struggled to redeeem her reputation;
her running sore of afflictions – so widespread that only time can heal the wounds.
With the words of Jesus at his farewell discourse in Johannine literature,
“I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you.” It’s reassuring so far;
the Spirit of truth is Christ himself who’ll walk with his own people of all races,
his covenant with them, promise to his disciples, and assurance to all who believe in him.
The church echoes hope and perseverance in the throes of sufferings and tribulations,
She calls everyone to look for the true light – Christ, in hiddenness and humility;
His epiphany in a continuing journey of faith, in the gospel cries, in various events,
Christ shines in one’s heart, along with the Father and the Holy Spirit – the Paraclete.
Somewhere in Africa, is a land blessed with nature:
Valuable gemstones beneath earth’s crust,
A fertile soil nurtured by divine tears from above,
And a blazing smile of radiant sun
But great depression has its hands gripped
On the heart and soul of this glorious land
For nature’s most precious stones are taken, to God knows where.
Somewhere in Africa, is a land built
Upon the foundation of freedom, and the prospect of equality
But slavery has become its reputation, both literally and figuratively
As lawsuits and jurists, rule in favor of higher statuses
And justice is denied the less fortunates.
In this land, aliens are celebrated as the noble breeds
While citizens are the unknown outcasts.
Somewhere in Africa, is a land where in,
The cries of the oppressed echo millions of miles
Through the ages, but there’s no one to listen
Their voices never seem to stop singing
The bleeding chorus for help and yet,
They are muted by the whistle of subjugation
And have therefore become a tuneless melody.
Somewhere in Africa, is a land where leaders
Are made to live like demigods and goddesses
While homeless infant, roam about the old rugged streets
As they are left alone, to fend for themselves
And single mothers, lie helplessly on troubled tummies
Because the proceeds of the economy is poured
Into the pockets of ruthless rulers.
Somewhere in Africa, is a land on which
There exit gifted souls, filled with never ending passions
And concealed endowments, awaiting exposure upon explosion
But only a blessed few, get to taste the fruit of innovation
For the external helps are not timely enough, to scratch the matches
And so thousands of these rare souls, have lived and died
With dreams unfulfilled and ideas unexpressed.
Somewhere in Africa, is a land where
The heirs of poetic insights, are rising from the shadows
Carving and penning, with the ink of solemn truth
The verses and stanzas, of unprecedented transformations
In the veins and arteries, of descending generations
The very stanzas needed, for the rebirth of this glorious land of liberty.
I once tried to burn Day Light
But found she was not flammable
So I decided to try Twi Light
Not a chance...Twi just laughed at me
and Day smirked, snickered and pointed
Which REALLY burned me up...
'Try burning Night Time,’ Twi suggested
(No way! Burn me once? Flame on you
Burn me twice? Flame on-on...ME I think)
‘There’s no need to be aflamed my man’
(Aw shucks...Thanks! Any chance y’all are sisters?)
‘Aw shucks...You’re welcome! Yep, Sisters of the Sun'
‘The Moon is a cousin but we don‘t stay in touch‘
(If it‘s not too personal, might I ask why?)
‘No heat! Also, He‘s been manipulating the tides
Sister Sun even threatened to burn His Dark Side'
(Did he relent and resume his proper orbit?)
‘HELL no! Now She’s confused and feeling the heat
As a result, we’re getting REALLY weird sunsets’
(Really? Well I’ll be a sun of a sunset!)
'SO, You wanna burn Night Time or what?’
(Yeah, but I’d prefer burning Day Light
There’s this contest on Poetry Soup
and the theme is Burning Daylight)
‘Nope, Night Time or go down in flames’
(Well, how shall I Set the Night on Fire?)
‘You’re plagiarizing...The Doors did that’
(Not familiar with that I’m afraid)
'Geez! Come On Baby Light My Fire??
Try to set the night on FIRE!! Got it?
(Ah...So I’ll be needing a Baby then
and how can a Baby light a fire anyway?)
'(Sigh) So here’s what you’re gonna need...
A flame thrower and some gasoline’
(Got it! I’m sure burned up about this!)
'Pssst...Sis, I’m certain he meant FIRED up’
*The consequences were devastating
I set a pine tree on fire in my yard
which of course, spread to the nearby forest
and then, to my utter shock and horror
the entire neighborhood was consumed!
Thankfully, everyone got out alive...
**Jail-time and numerous lawsuits followed
SOMEHOW, I managed to burn all my bridges
but didn’t quite make it off the last bridge
which really burned my ass...
Submitted for the contest 'Burning Daylight' sponsored by John Lawless
Through the eyes of one born in 1952:
1950’s TV craze
Muscle cars, blue jeans
Poodle skirts, class ring exchanges
Simple time, grandparents involved.
Girls want to be pretty, men call women girls
I Love Lucy
Topper, Loretta Young,
Show of Shows
Grandma’s house on Sundays. Grandpa’s teach skills.
Girls want to be beautiful, men call women “dames”
1960’s Marauding cold war
Russia cosmonauts
Space race
Grandparents are moved to nursing homes.
Girls want to be Jackie, men call women “wife”
JFK and Bobby
Dr. Martin Luther King
Killed by cowards
Grandparents give advice, but visits are more seldom.
Girls want to be housewives, men call women back home.
Early 1970’s, hippie revolution
Egyptian cat queen make-up, free love, anti-war.
Barbara Streisand, Sonny and Cher, Bette Midler,
Grandparents see an alarming pattern of disrespect.
Girls want to be singers and dancers, men get confused.
1980’s
Fur vests, striped pants
Disco Music, John Travolta, Sundays are just another day.
Grandparents have rights, and try to get part time custody of their grandchildren.
Women want to have rights, be independent. Men call them “busters”
1990’s, Turn of everything, selfishness on the rise.
Assassination of Innocence, church and family are scoffed.
Grandparents back off, not daring to give advice, seeing it is not wanted.
Women are working all over the place. Men are not the only bread-winners.
2000’s Computers are in houses
Children are alone, latch key
911 happens, people pray for a day or two.
Grandparents are nowhere around.
Men and women get depressed; children are too.
2010’s
I-phone. I-pad, I-know. I, me, I, I, I.
Lawsuits, lawlessness, spiritually bereft.
Communication breakdown; facetime grandparents once in a pink moon (rarely).
People sit next to each other and text. Confusion reigns supreme.
Breaking down of family is complete. Sorrowful, angry people, disjointed, sad.
Forget the First 48, how ‘bout the first 30 days, smh.
How is it that the House that has ALL the control is so out of control?
How is it that we got an elderly grandfather acting like a kid with a new case of ink pens?
With less than two weeks on the job and with all that is going on in the country, how is attending the Super Bowl a priority, and riding around the Daytona 500 racetrack benefiting our country? It's more like a senior citizen acting like a 12 year old that has never been let outside as a child.
Because of the Musketeers and the disarray, this "house" has more lawsuits piled up in the first 30 days than the days in the month. People not knowing what’s the deal, so many court cases and appeals.
The amount of disrespect and threatening to take away federal fundings from states who don't wanna play and do what you say, is wrong on so many levels.
How are things great or even better when so many people are getting a "You fired" letter?
Inflation, allegations, discrimination, immigration, mass deportations, ICE not so nice…
Thirty days, what a splatter, even his supporters doesn’t matter. Now what are they to do, when they are the ones being let go too. You was a fan, did you think you were exempt? Thousands upon thousands are being fired, now they are left wondering who else is hiring. Prices are soaring, eggs are $37.00 a dozen…
Mishandling, dismantling... FYI, no DEI, they coming for the CFPB, the NOAA, FAA, USAID, Medicaid (CMS), no appreciation for the Dept of Education, the NIH, the DoD, the CDC, the IRS in a big mess, EPA, FDA, the VA, FEMA, NASA and even more in store.
You knew what kind of chaos it was the last time so I don’t know why anybody is surprised. Awww, and you thought it was going to be better the second time around. Well, all I can say is, there is Power in Prayer.
Buckle up... and to think, this is only the first 30 days, smh.
I see the end is near
I see that my freedom is so close
I certainly hope it is
I sure could use a vacation from this
Worthless, cancerous carnival of
Freaks
Here in this hopeless ruined hole I call my town
The only way to fix it is to quickly flush it down
Any blessed day, any cursed time
Under the waves, I know it would be so damn sublime
They cry for their safety and
Cry for their drugs and they
Cry for their future and
Cry for their lawsuits and
Don't care for others as
Their lives are worthless like
All that the world can do is
Revolve around them in this
Worthless, cancerous carnival of
Freaks
Here in this hopeless ruined hole I call my town
The only way to fix it is to quickly flush it down
Any blessed day, any cursed time
Under the waves, drowning to death, won't it be sublime?
I pray something will fall from the heavens
And firmly implant itself beneath the waves
And the tidal waves pour in
As everyone starts running
I hope the end is near
I hope Armageddon's coming soon
I certainly pray it is
I sure could use a vacation from this
Waste of time, wasting time
A festering sore on this country we live in
Here's an idea to keep you all interested
Hold your breath
God's gonna fix it all soon
God's gonna put it all back the way it should've been
Hold your breath
To death with your leaders and
Farewell to their clones
And all those false gangsters
Who have no way to survive
Hold your breath
Sink with your hobbies and
Sink with your pride
Sink with the junkies
Who followed with their own will
Hold your breath
Sink with your dealers
With hidden agendas
Sink with these dysfunctional
Insecure failures
Hold your breath
Because I'm praying for rain
I'm praying for tidal waves
I want to see the waves rising
And crash down upon us
God, please flush it all away
Show what's underneath
The rushing brown waters
I want to see it all drown