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I've made several films that haven't been shown.

quote by Kenneth Anger
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Too Much Of That Has Already Been Approved

I am very much a part of nature.
It is there to be enjoyed.
Some believe it can be inspected,
With a manipulation of it done.
But a waste of time is all that occurs.
Since nature is a product of Earth.
And none of it is a creation,
Made from the limitation of a human mind.
That's why I choose to be observant,
And less tolerant of the feeding of ignorance.
Too much of that has already been approved.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Plantation Has Been Ordered To Be Destroyed

Sir...
The 'coons' have taken refuge,
Under the veranda.
And the demolition crew is here.
What shall we do?

'Make sure it is made clear to them,
There is not going to be a renovation done.
That plantation has been ordered to be destroyed.'

Sir,
I do believe we are talking about two different things.
The animal rights people will not like it,
If we've intentionally demolished the nature habitat of the coons.
Should we contact the zoo before the crew starts?

'What 'are' we talking about here? '

The raccoons sir!
You know...
Those furry masked animals.

'OH!
I'm glad you clarified that.
I had a different image in my mind.
It would have appeared ridiculous,
Shouting through a bullhorn.
Threatening them with arrest!
See if they can be teased back into the trees.'

Sir?
What thoughts were you thinking?

'You don't want to know.
It has been very difficult for me of late,
To keep my thoughts progressive.
Politically correct and not offensive.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nameless Tonight, Not Me, Immensities

Nameless tonight, not me, immensities
beyond my reach. The windows
thawing in the heat. Blue moon
above a junkyard of farm machinery.
The pioneers' bones have been exhumed
from the land they settled. Empty
the graves of those who slept in these hills,
lunar lichens plastered like playbills
over the closing night of their names.
Echoes we all disappear into like waterbirds
soon enough, skipping out over the lake
like gravestones in the hands of those
who effaced us from our own history.

I can't place myself anywhere,
alive or dead, no homestead of my own,
where I can watch the raspberry bushes
flourish year after year and listen to the rain
drumming the tin toolshed roof into a trance.
I'm unselfishly disciplined when it comes
to rendering the unsayable communicable
through events of form that shape-shift
to the counter-intuitive logic of metaphor
that transcends physics in post cosmological realms,
but that doesn't mean I've got the will of a socket wrench
to go on tightening loose bolts the rest of my life.
Rocking fields they won't let me die in.

I like knowing the pioneers used wildflowers
for soap, Bouncing Bet, Pride of London,
Lady at the Gate, and if I were ever
to survive a nuclear war, I'd put this knowledge
to good use like a lantern in a housewell
to keep the hand pump from freezing,
potato peels in the fire to desiccate the creosote.
I'd eat staghorn sumac and briney frogs for breakfast.
My mind would be an assortment
of different size nails and screws
I've saved for years to meet any occasion
I might have to keep things together anti-dramatically.

In the meantime I explore these old farms
the way a raccoon exploits an abandoned barn,
listening for the torrential wavelengths of snakes
fleeing the rain to hunt mice in the dishevelled bales
of sour hay way past dreaming of mangers.
After the original occupants die
and the last born son has left the farm for good,
we're all strangers in a used solitude.
The indignant silence makes everyone a trespasser.
Names on gravestones. Names carved in barn beams.
A scripture of old curtains hanging from the windows
like the priestcraft of spiders that haven't been disturbed in years.
Prewar magazines espousing the miracles of magnetism
in relieving the agonies of rheumatism
and hairline fractures of cracked vertebrae
that took the load upon themselves out of pride
one too many times without thinking
of their own cornerstones and rotting floor sills.

A roof collapsing. A door on one hinge like a drunk
trying to hold on to something upright and final.
Schools and churches, pews, desks, and woodsheds,
everything as functional as the hives and houseflies
that cluster in the walls like those born to follow
the tried and trued, straight and narrow road
through the winding woods reweaving it
like a loose thread that unravelled the labyrinth
of the spiritual lost and found that dug up their bones
for hygienic reasons that had nothing to do
with how deep they were buried in the land
before their corpses were washed away from the soil
that clung to them like faithful hunting dogs
that slept on their graves for weeks after they died,
not knowing, how the city would come to them,
even in their homegrown deaths, like roadkill and erosion.

I've seen crucified barn boards warped by the sun and rain,
pull their old fashioned square-headed nails out
with their own teeth like dogs extracting porcupine quills
from the voodoo dolls they've made of themselves
like a self-fulfilling hex of hunting magic gone wrong.
And I admire all that the way I admire the palatial virtues
of the strong who live like glacial hills among
the heaped tels of Sisyphean rocks beside
the valleys they dug for themselves and their children
expiring in moats of scarlet fever, to lie down in
like time capsules without a table of contents
that could have anticipated that all they laboured for
would cast them away like strawdogs after a moribund ritual
that would not let them rest their heads on the rock of the world
and dream they were returning to the wild
like their gardens that have gone on blooming without them.

Salt of the earth with bedrock hearts, I come
like the deus ex machina, as you would have seen me
in terms you could have understood, late in the day
like a ghost to a morality play on tour in the country,
looking for a clearing among the trees to view the stars
long after the applause has died away. And the longer
I stand here surveying six thousand photogenic stars
burning without fire permits in the summer dark,
mourning your exorcism, the more I feel crowded
by your absence as if the Summer Triangle
were missing an eagle and the Seven Sisters
in the orchards of the Pleiades, carried away by the wind,
like Sabine maidens, had pruned the horns of Taurus
by deboning the land of the humans
they've torn out of it like the stumps of the locust trees
that used to sing here at night, bright with blossoming stars
and the occasional night bird like me
on its way to somewhere else,
and in the morning, was backed-up
by the ecstatic choirs of the born again honey-bees.

poem by Patrick White
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I've liked most of the films that I've been in and those are the kinds of films I like to see.

quote by Benicio del Toro
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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There's no such thing as 'facts of life'. Only standing theories that haven't been disproved as of yet.

quote by Simon Travaglia
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I'm more embarrassed about some of the films that I've been in than I am about Playboy. Playboy I'm actually quite proud of.

quote by Claudia Christian
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Tax reform is taking the taxes off things that have been taxed in the past and putting taxes on things that haven't been taxed before.

quote by Art Buchwald
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I think there are steps that can be taken that haven't been required or energy to make that fight more secure and we are going to continue to push the federal government to do that.

quote by George Pataki
Added by Lucian Velea
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You Haven't Been Bushed Yet!

You haven't been bushed yet!
You haven't been as bushed
As a bushed man can get.
Because a bushed man bushed,
Gets down on his knees
Doing the best he can
To get a whiff...
Of whatever fresh air is left!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Everyone is trying to do something that hasn't been done and that's a really good thing. You can only do so much with a story and some scripts don't give you the opportunities and other scripts do give you the opportunities to do things that haven't been done before.

quote by Dennis Muren
Added by Lucian Velea
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That Search Has Been Agonizing

The hardest thing for me to learn,
Was to say, 'No.'
And after I learned how to say it...
It became difficult,
Not to premeditate its use.

Now I am seeking someone,
To teach me...
When the use of saying 'no'
Has its disadvantages.
And so far...
That search has been agonizing.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Seeking Attention of That Kind Has Been Fed

I don't expect your praise.
In fact...
I don't expect you to acknowleged anything I do.
I am not on that mission.
Seeking attention of that kind has been fed.
However...
What I do expect,
Is a clue you know something about self respect.
And so far I suspect,
We both have become disappointed.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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How Long Has That Evening Train Been Gone

CHORUS:
How long has that evening train been gone (whoa whoa)?
I wanna know
How long has that evening train been gone (whoa whoa)?

I have a babe that was standing at the station
Waiting for a train
I ran to the door with my heart in my hand (heart in my hand)
And all my future plans (future plans)

I've gotta catch him if I can
Is that express

song performed by Diana Ross and the Supremes from Love Child
Added by Lucian Velea
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To Undo What It Was That Should Have Been

Reform?
Is that similar to rebirth?
Or re-defining what is?

And if that is the case...
Those who now suggest,
A redefining of things to reform...
To do to get things done,
Will need to re-address themselves,
With amnesia.

To undo what it was that should have been,
Those without a conscious intentionally did...
To enable a reform to do that is defined with a doing.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In Their Eyes

My success has not achieved respect,
In their eyes.
And I laugh from mine.
With the knowledge...
It is me who has chosen to be in their presence.
And success?
That was delivered to me,
When at birth I was blessed...
To have this experience called life!
And what more of a success can one possess?
If anything can be done without life as it is known...
I haven't been shown.
As of yet.
And until that happens,
I'll do what God expects.
And that is to have no other gods before Him!
That is a 'memo' I understand clearly.
And that is a confession I will always profess.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Road Has Been Traveled

That road has been traveled.
Long before your carefully placed steps.
Hesitated to test the paved,
And manicured path you take.

That road has been traveled.
And once aligned and adorned with gravel.
Rocks and other obstacles thrown.

If it seems,
I am not in sync...
With others who shower you,
Best wishes and tons of sympathy...
I am not going to do!
Because your shoes are too tight.
And an ingrown toenail bleeds and bites.
You are right!
I 'am' out of that synchronicity.

I don't want you to believe or 'think'
I am not with empathy!
I want you to 'know'...
I have none!
On you,
To spare.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Deeds That Might Have Been

There are wrongs done in the fair face of heaven
Which cry aloud for vengeance, and shall cry;
Loves beautiful in strength whose wit has striven
Vainly with loss and man's inconstancy;
Dead children's faces watched by souls that die;
Pure streams defiled; fair forests idly riven;
A nation suppliant in its agony
Calling on justice, and no help is given.

All these are pitiful. Yet, after tears,
Come rest and sleep and calm forgetfulness,
And God's good providence consoles the years.
Only the coward heart which did not guess,
The dreamer of brave deeds that might have been,
Shall cureless ache with wounds for ever green.

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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That Which Had Been Different

Overnight...
That which had been different,
Is today alright.
With a jumping over in leaps and bounds,
What was found just yesterday...
To be safe and sound,
But now archaic.
Antiquated.
And has rusted with decay.

Just yesterday...
Those afraid to live,
Because they feared their names...
Would be dropped in hot gossip,
Seek today to be the main event!

Overnight that which had been different,
Is today alright.
In fact...
So many are over-excited with appetites to live,
They seem not able to be satisfied being mediocre.
A recognition they live to be the main event,
To breathe seek and reach accomplishments...
Has dawn on them as if they have begun to notice,
The Sun rising on the horizon for the first time.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Has Always Been a Dream

Why are you playing dodgeball?
In the middle of traffic on the highway?
You 'must' have a death wish?

'I'm seeking immediated feedback.
Plus I'm testing the hearts of my fellowmen,
To prove my wellbeing is their priority!
But don't distract me.
My partner is behind you.
And getting ready to throw me the ball.
I tagged him out!
I told him he had no chance to win.
No guts...
No glory.'

Why didn't you follow.
And remove yourself out of harm's way?

'And lose my advantage?
I'm up by three points.'

I thought you were testing the hearts of your fellowmen?

'I am.
But if I win this game,
I'll also gain the sound of applause.
And that has always been a dream I wish to fulfill.
And I am 'thisclose' to achieving it.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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And All That Could Have Been

Breeze still carries the sound
maybe i'll disappear
tracks will fade in the snow
you won't find me here
Ice is starting to form
ending what had begun
I am locked in my head
with what I've done
I know you tried to rescue me
didn't let anyone get in
left with a trace of all that was
And all that could have been
Please
take this
and run far away
far away from me
I am tainted
the two of us
were never meant to be
all these pieces
and promises and left behinds
if only I could see
In my nothing
You meant everything
everything to me
gone fading everything
And all that could have been
Please
take this
and run far away
far as you can see
I am tainted
and happiness and peace of mind
were never meant for me
all these pices
and promises and left behinds
if only I could see
In my nothing
You meant everything
everything to me

song performed by Nine Inch Nails
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