If Thirty Years Ago or Less
It would have been wonderful 'if' thirty years ago...
Or less.
We all had embraced reality as fact and not fiction.
And those who spoke truth were not hushed as mavericks.
And priorities then,
Focused our minds in unity as a mindset.
Instead of a decadence that has trashed.
With conflicts that clash.
To have now a witnessed division,
Depicting a separateness into classes!
So once enjoyed by the masses.
Perhaps none of the current madness experienced,
Would exist to inflict upon our consciousness.
IF...
Thirty years ago,
Or less.
The majority had confessed...
A self examined sadness,
Now professed in regret as is reflected!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
My Next Thirty Years
(track 12 - time 3:37)
(phil vassar)
I think Ill take a moment, celebrate my age
The ending of an era and the turning of a page
Now its time to focus in on where I go from here
Lord have mercy on my next thirty years
Hey my next thirty years Im gonna have some fun
Try to forget about all the crazy things Ive done
Maybe now Ive conquered all my adolescent fears
And Ill do it better in my next thirty years
My next thirty years Im gonna settle all the scores
Cry a little less, laugh a little more
Find a world of happiness without the hate and fear
Figure out just what Im doing here
In my next thirty years
Oh my next thirty years, Im gonna watch my weight
Eat a few more salads and not stay up so late
Drink a little lemonade and not so many beers
Maybe Ill remember my next thirty years
My next thirty years will be the best years of my life
Raise a little family and hang out with my wife
Spend precious moments with the ones that I hold dear
Make up for lost time here, in my next thirty years
In my next thirty years
song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Mrs. Thrale on Her Completing Her Thirty-fifth Year
Oft in danger, yet alive,
We are come to thirty-five;
Long may better years arrive,
Better years than thirty-five.
Could philosophers contrive
Life to stop at thirty-five,
Time his hours should never drive
O'er the bounds of thirty-five
High to soar, and deep to dive,
Nature gives at thirty-five.
Ladies, stop and tend your hive,
Trifle not at thirty-five;
For, howe'er we boast and strive,
Life declines from thirty-five:
He that ever hopes to thrive
Must begin by thirty-five:
And all who wisely wish to wive
Must look on Thrale at thirty-five.
poem by Samuel Johnson
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Ten Grey hairs and a silver one
I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with broken up my first relationship
I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home
I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work
I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with loosing my job
I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child
I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub
I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter
I discovered my eight grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school
I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with to find out that some thing was missing
I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum
My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …
poem by Pascale Ost
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Thirty three years
Thirty three years
~
Soon I turn thirty three
And wonder what I have to show
I feel I have achieved very little
And have been going nowhere fast
I fear I am stuck in my ways
And this is my lot for life
I sit alone in writing this morning
With my usual coffee for one
I have loved, had my heart broken
Let opportunities slip away
Now I tend to do nothing
At least I wont feel hurt that way
I have spent time in solitary
And lost touch with the world
Please try and remember that
To excuse my lack of social grace
The pace of each year is picking up
While I am still young in some eyes
Still may yet have a lot to achieve
I look at the past thirty two years
And see myself an old man
Lonely and turning thirty three
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Shaved
He had wore a beard every since his early teens.
It had been at least thirty years since anyone saw him without it.
For those thirty years he felt he had something to hide.
But yesterday he shaved and freed himself from the thirty year mask he had been wearing.
He said it feels good to no longer have that itchy heavy beard weighing him down.
Yesterday he shaved when he finally told everyone he is gay.
My Little Valentine
For years now I have lived alone
Since my marriage fell apart.
In theory we’ve joint custody
But that’s always how it starts.
I’m a salesman on the road
About thirty weeks a year..
My barkeep is the mini bar,
Room service makes my meals.
But I was in town for Valentines
And for my weekend with our girl
I took her to her favorite place
These days she’s my whole world.
All grown up at five years old
And learning not to cry..
She enjoyed the present that I brought
Cause I’m her special guy.
I’m careful not to criticize
her mom who’s now my Ex.
.She also is considerate
And I’m current with the checks.
We had a decent pasta meal
I wisely passed on wine.
As I enjoyed my night out on the town
With my little valentine.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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No Neck-Tie Party
A prisoner speaks:
Majority of twenty-three,
I face the Judge with joy and glee;
For am I not a lucky chap -
No more hanging, no more cap;
A "lifer," yes, but well I know
In fifteen years they'll let me go;
For I'll be pious in my prison,
Sing with gusto: Christ Is Risen;
Serve the hymn-books out on Sunday,
Sweep the chapel clean on Monday:
Such a model lag I'll be
In fifteen years they'll set me free.
Majority of twenty three,
You've helped me cheat the gallows tree.
I'm twenty now, at thirty-five
How I will laugh to be alive!
To leap into the world again
And bless the fools miscalled "humane,"
Who say the gibbet's wrong and so
At thirty-five they let me go,
Tat I may sail the across the sea
A killer unsuspect and free,
To change my name, to darkly thrive
By hook or crook at thirty-five.
O silent dark and beastly wood
Where with my bloodied hands I stood!
O piteous child I raped and slew!
Had she been yours, would you and you
Have pardoned me and set me free,
Majority of twenty-three?
Yet by your solemn vote you willed
I shall not die though I have killed;
Although I did no mercy show,
In mercy you will let me go. . . .
That he who kills and does not pay
May live to kill another day.
*By a majority of twenty-three the House of Commons
voted the abolition of the death penalty.
poem by Robert William Service
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Soon Coming to a Set of Eyes Near You
They could have had their culture and identity in place.
But many of them because of jealousy,
Took their time to slander and erase...
Any deed that was done by anyone who came to uplift them!
They were sure to crush and ambush.
That has been their unconscious mission.
They are mentally sick.
But don't know this!
Folks with megaphones in communities...
Preaching from the Bible about unity.
Are they themselves in divisions.
They reflect themselves to have conflicts within them.
They do not have peaceful minds at all.
Recovering from drugs and alcohol.
Wanting to express their personal findings of God!
What has been embraced today...
Is a guilt expressed that has created an economic mess.
And a decadence that has fed gluttony,
Will still be at a heated fervor pitch...
If there were signs an abundance of it were being produced.
And Bible thumpers had their hands on it.
When folks see their greed about to cease...
That's the only reason they call upon God!
And that's why God is switching up all agendas.
With priorities for many to become vividly clear...
In the sharing of one reality!
There will be no varities or assortments of it...
Depicted from one's interpretation of a scripture lifted,
To define God's meaning.
Soon coming to a set of eyes near you!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mourning Anniversary
After all these years
thirty years
thirty years and more.
The emptiness the loneliness
cries I love you more.
I held you once
only once
more than thirty years ago.
And then my love
my only love I had to let you go.
But my heart had seen
my eyes had seen
the only true love for me.
When you walked
away my love.
You turned not back
to look at me.
A single embrace
just one embrace
is all that’s let to me.
A single embrace
just one embrace
second never again to be.
And no one cries for me.
No one cries for me.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Objective knowledge, the idea of unity included, belongs to objective consciousness. The forms which express this knowledge when perceived by subjective consciousness are inevitably distorted and, instead of truth, they create more and more delusions. With objective consciousness it is possible to see and feel the unity of everything. But for subjective consciousness the world is split up into millions of separate and unconnected phenomena. Attempts to connect these phenomena into some sort of system in a scientific or philosophical way lead to nothing because man cannot reconstruct the idea of the whole starting from separate facts and they cannot divine the principles of the division of the whole without knowing the laws upon which this division is based.
quote by G.I. Gurdjieff
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Crowded With Lies
Why are some stunned by truth?
It is not something taught,
One gets accustomed to.
Billions are spent to fantasize.
There is no room for truth,
In a mind crowded with lies.
A progressive mindset,
Has been stunted because of this.
Dismissed are those who wish for reality.
And often they are labelled mavericks.
Or something less flattering,
To ensure their influence has no chance to exist.
Why are some stunned by truth?
It is not something taught,
One gets accustomed to.
Billions are spent to fantasize.
There is no room for truth,
In a mind bombarded and crowded with lies.
And yet those disillusioned,
Pray on Sunday...
To have their lives fixed.
While listening to sermons,
As to how sins and evil have them bewitched.
Their very lives lived are confused in conflicts.
Although truth for many has become feared,
And resisted.
Observed they are...
Bewildered, bothered and betwixted.
Why are some stunned by truth?
It is not something taught,
One gets accustomed to.
Billions are spent to fantasize.
And there is no room for truth,
In a mind bombarded and crowded with lies.
And the marketing of fresh lies...
Is a mainstay in most societies,
That has thrived and survived successfully!
But a continuation of a success like this,
Does not sustain its permanence.
Eventually a strain draining the brain prevents it.
People everywhere and everyday,
Reflect their lack of consciousness.
And revealing a 'craze' that has become accepted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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From Holiday To Holiday
This is what I've learned about living in reality
The few who choose to do it,
Become highly suspicious by those who travel
From holiday to holiday to celebrate escapes.
With the doing to others who speak of truth,
Everything they can
To depict them as mavericks.
Who have anti-social unacceptable motives,
To inflict
On those conformists,
Wanting nothing to do with a consciousness
That produces visions of clarity.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Yeah I'm thirty-six, but on the show I'm thirty-two. Nobody wants to watch a thirty-six year old woman, so they decided to make me thirty-two. Much more appealing somehow.
quote by Ellen DeGeneres
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm thirty years old, but I read at the thirty-four-year-old level.
quote by Dana Carvey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On My Thirty-Third Birthday, January 22, 1821
Through life's dull road, so dim and dirty,
I have dragg'd to three-and-thirty.
What have these years left to me?
Nothing--except thirty-three.
Grant me thirty years of equal division of inheritances and a free press, and I will provide you with a republic.
quote by Alexis de Tocqueville
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Realms Beyond Our Limited and Limping Vision
I am the Sun, the Moon and Stars.
Within my heart is reflected this wonderment.
My presence represents,
The physical image of The Creator.
From the living Earth,
Our journeys begin...
And visually from the material it ends.
To leave those foolishly protecting with defenses!
And setting up fences to guard and rule,
Without a bit of common sense.
To inflict cruel and unusual punishments.
But the Soul lives on,
In realms beyond our limited and limping vision.
This magnificence given,
We have come to call life!
Is fed a comprehension...
To deny and accept,
There are no other dimensions.
And from the center of the universe...
Some believe they've been blessed,
To control with special effects.
Yet...
We all exist,
In preparation for an intervention!
That will come to test and manifest,
Without unrest.
No one can protest the obvious!
Corrected in time this will come to pass.
As all consciousness is raised...
To believe what has been overlooked and trashed.
By those who are 'faithfully' entrapped.
To ensure others are kept held back.
And left uninformed about 'truth' and 'reality'.
But this is not to be.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Just Want Me to Preach
Our 'children' are killing each other.
Society and the 'church' has allowed this.
Not spirituality with a consciousness.
Who buys into conflicts to have that condone?
And talk about the 'Devil'?
When only devilment is known.
As if a practice to be shown.
And people talk about themselves,
In despicable tones.
Even sitting next to one another...
To 'worship' and be entertained,
Under stadium domes.
And those who profess they know God...
Say so.
And that is overblown.
If folks can not see this,
They are blind to everything else.
They are caught up in image,
And not substance.
And blatant decadence is the evidence.
They are into pretense and nonsense!
And most definitely into themselves.
Sharing grief is their reality.
Ignoring their own soldiers they put to war,
Is their 'thing'.
Having 'bling' is their commander!
And anyone who claims to pray for peace,
And receives none...
They are going through the motions,
Of looking to impress.
And 'that' should be addressed.
To lift them out of their own created mess.
Instead of trying to correct,
An accepted physicality of things.
And a host of inanimated objects to posses.
With a sadness delivered.
And the madness that it brings!
Please!
You just want me to preach.
And I ain't in the mood to do it.
I just offer my opinions unsolicited.
I don't have to be ordained,
To say the same thing from a pulpit!
To convince what God wants.
And observe those in denial,
Objecting to a reality in disbelief.
As if to ignore it will bring them relief.
Please!
You just want me to preach.
And I ain't in the mood to do it.
Especially when an unconscious mindset,
Has been drugged to be numbed...
Deluded and succumbed.
And totally out of reach.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thirty Years
IT'S THIRTY YEARS THAT I'VE SLAVED.
LET'S TAKE A LOOK AT WHAT I'VE SAVED
I BOUGHT SOME STOCKS THEY SAID WERE STARS.
NOW BANKS OWN MY HOUSE AND BOTH USED CARS.
THE KIDS DO CALL, BUT NOT ENOUGH.
THAT ALIMONY MAKES IT TOUGH.
THINGS ARE BETTER SINCE I MET DEB.
SHE'S HELPED ME BACK FROM MY LOW EBB.
WE'LL MARRY SOON, BUT BOTH ARE NERVOUS.
WE CARRY SCARS FROM PREVIOUS SERVICE.
THE NEXT THIRTY YEARS I WON'T BE CONCERNED
WITH DEBBIE, FRIENDS AND WHAT I'VE LEARNED.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Thirty-five is a very attractive age. London society is full of women of the very highest birth who have, of their own free choice, remained thirty-five for years.
quote by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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