Where?!
I returned home back
But ………
Where’s my neighborhood?!
Where’s my friends?!
Where’s my home?!
Where’s my balcony?!
Where’s my Olivera?
Where’s my beautiful flowers?!
Where’s my cup of coffee?!
Where’s my books and papers?!
Where’s my memories?
Where’s my things?!
Where am I ?!
Ahmed Miqdad
Gaza
The interview with Michael Poryes turns into a script
“No one ever leaves a star. That’s what makes one a star.” (Sunset Boulevard, Billy Wilder)
But the idiot who leaves a star, rest assured that a real star will never allow his return, I say.
Here is how my interview with the great Michael Poryes begins.
But it is certainly not a traditional interview. It cannot even be called an interview.
It could be defined as an interesting exchange of experiences, of work and life, where the theme of fame opens many treasure chests, often dramatic.
I therefore “transgressively” skip all the questions that I should have asked the immense screenwriter and filmmaker Michael Poryes and begin to talk about Billy Wilder, his daughter Victoria Wilder, who I met recently, my contact with Gloria Swanson and still on Billy Wilder, for me the number one director in the history of cinema.
An embarrassing statement, however, since Federico Fellini was my mentor.
Michael thinks of Billy Wilder’s films, he can’t remember the title of Wilder’s most theatrical film and asks me.
I : “The most beautiful film on the history of cinema and absolutely the most beautiful film in the history of cinema?” – I answer him – “… is “Sunset Boulevard”.
The film par excellence about fame, the theme of Poryes’ most famous work, the four time Emmy nominated “Hannah Montana”.
Poryes answers me by telling me that Hannah Montana deals with the theme of fame, which instead in “Sunset Boulevard” is fiercely the protagonist.
There is a common aspect between me and Poryes: we are both famous, with the problems of those who are famous and we both try to take fame away from our lives, invaded by fame.
Michael tells me that, coincidentally, his son, yesterday, made him understand how his life can potentially be controlled by his fans, since his information is everywhere on the Internet.
Hannah Montana fans are many and each fan wants to penetrate the life of their star, Michael Poryes, the creator of Hannah Montana!
What do fans really want from their idols? A vast and delicate topic this.
One of the goals of the fans, often linked to unawareness, is to deprive the star of his golden mantle that he shows off on stage, to, in the end, reverse the roles. But how? Just like in: “Les Bonnes” by Jean Genet, where the star is physically killed, his power is killed, his magnetism and seduction is dethroned, to absurdly reinforce his incorporeal icon, which is the only thing that matters to a fan. Atrocious. And this is what happened to me now: someone has penetrated my orbit and attracted by my magnetism towards my core, the “metaphorically” mortal clash is now underway. Who will survive?
At this point Michael talks about Miley Stewart , a teenager who wants to become a pop star. As her success grows, her friends start to look at her differently. And when she, because of her success, moves to Malibu, Miley wants to change everything: she divides her personality between being a star and herself and so creates Hannah Montana. Miley wants to be treated as herself. I reply that this is why I can’t live my life and Michael tells me that you never know if someone is treating you genuinely or treating you to get something from you or they are around you to show off to their friends that they are your friends and never treat you honestly.
Michael tells me that he has had friends since he wasn’t famous and they have never changed with him. And he asks me if it is the same for me. I reply yes, but mine is an unconvincing “yes”, since the energy of the few friends I have is captured by all the others who treat me for my fame.
Michael says that his career has had notable ups and downs, as he assumes mine has also been. Yes, my career has also had moments of glory and moments of oblivion, like the character of Norma Desmond.
And Michael adds that it is very difficult to navigate between people who are your friends, but who are also friends of your fame and people who are just your friends.
All this gets complicated when you are a teenager. You have to understand if your parents use you for the money you produce. I quote Amy Winehouse where the family does not seem interested in Amy, as a human being, but to be interested in her, as long as Amy produces money, so Amy, feeling useful, abuses drugs, to keep up with her shows, and then dies for this and for a love lived in this context. Atrocious. They talk about Lady Gaga and her mother, Sophia Loren and her mother, Cher and her mother. The theme again moves away from Hannah Montana, but the background on fame broadens.
I feel it is right to make known my dramatic relationship with my father, in relation to my fame, obtained, as with Miley Stewart/ Hannah Montana, as a teenager.
My father, a powerful lawyer, destroyed my friendship with Federico Fellini, forbade RAI TV, the Italian state television, from working with them, completely tore me away from my world of entertainment which for me was life, and I, in short, found myself alone, collapsed on the floor of my house in the grip of a powerful depression that isolated me from everything, everyone and even from myself, a depression fueled by my father for years, while Fellini called me for his films and my father tore those vital calls, as oxygen, from my life, because they would have given me back my fame, now in agony like me!
Michael is struck by this dramatic story of mine: because of my fame, my father literally rejected me as a son and punished me for no longer being his son Federico, for having become Wardal! Atrocious.
Only after my father’s death, little by little, without strength and disappointed by everything, I was collected out of pity by a great playwright who imposed me once again on the great stage and when I heard the loud applause of the audience, forgotten due to my long absence, I said to myself, with tears in my eyes, while the curtain fell: “Wardal, listen! You can no longer leave your audience, since it is the only one that loves you and will always love you! Courage, Wardal, you are not guilty of being Wardal! You see, they call you back for the applause! And then, Wardal return to the stage and be Wardal forever! ” .
I was sorry, really, to have vented with the great Michael Poryes, but it was inevitable: the themes of his Miley Stewart/Hannah Montana are so close to mine! Since long ago, now, forever.
Michael comments on how slippery our world of entertainment is, repeating that the anchor for him are true friends that Michael has because he is whole, intact: Michael has never been contaminated by his fame.
That’s why Michael has the same friends as always who have never changed with him, because Michael has never changed. Michael believes in friendship, where fame has no access. Another problem in our entertainment industry is people who want fame without wanting to study, without any preparation that deprives the possibility of believing in something and there is the absence of authenticity since, with my personal experience, I have often seen scripts presented as originals that were instead totally copied from famous scripts, never well read, that were authentic flops.
Another aspect of our entertainment world is that it always requires us to be reborn when we do not feel the need, to renew ourselves when we do not feel the need, to change when we do not feel the need and it takes a continuous “Metamorphosis” to sell, a “product” forced to be born?! A show that I am writing is called “Metamorphosis” and I will share it with Michael, since I know that he is an authentic artist, an authentic person.
A great and current initiative of Poryes is to have rewritten the story of Al Kamilah, immortalized in the non-fiction film: “Al Kamilah the miracle filly” by Angela Alioto directed by Christopher A. Salvador , into a children’s picture book . The story that has fascinated and still fascinates social media is that of a filly for which no one wanted to try anything to save her life and Angela Alioto, on the contrary, trying everything and believing in the miracle, after months and months of dedication and love, saved her life. The book will be released soon illustrated. Poryes believes in believing and, in my opinion, believing only takes place in genuine, honest, authentic beings and that belief can produce miracles.
Michael Poryes, recently becomes very popular also in Italy by Sky TV for his TV series called: “Home, Sweet Rome”, which broadcast by Max an enhanced streaming platform from Warner Bros has obtained in 2024 a huge success also in the USA. “Home, Sweet Rome” is a comedy that has totally interested the Hannah Montana audience, since like Hannah Montana it focuses on the teenager Lucy, played by Kensington Tallman, who changes her life and moves from California to Rome with her father and in with her stepmother, Francesca, who is an Italian pop star! The theme of fame reappears again, but it is less evident and everyone identifies with Lucy, immersed in a new life, in a new culture. Wonderful scenarios of the city of Rome open up with the irresistible glamour of Italian fashion and Roman life that my mentor Fellini immortalized with his most famous film “La dolce vita” and where the air of Fellini remains at the Trevi Fountain, in Via Margutta, at the “Canova” and “Rosati” bars in Piazza del Popolo where I used to go with Fellini and now it seems like I’m having a coffee with Lucy.
The Texan Adventurer
I am an intrepid adventurer
I have journeyed through the Texan desert.
I am the perilous desert’s venturer.
I travel from desert to semi desert.
I hunt for the feral hog and the beaver.
I explore the hot plains like an achiever.
I have been warned by the lethal rattle snake
to protect my heels that are always at stake.
I must protect myself from a thousand stings
in haunted dark caves where the buzzing bee sings.
I must be safe in the Chihuahua desert
as I tread audaciously like an expert.
Give Me Texas
Give me Texas!
The Texan dream!
The Texan nostalgia!
The Lonestar custodian
of the historic wild west.
The zestry and pleasant
Tex Mex!
The attractive and entertaining
rodeo.
The ear to ear smile of the
unwavering southern hospitality.
The efficiently distributed plains
and landscape.
The bucolic tunes from strings and mellifluous western voices.
Hot and catchy barbeques.
The exciting fairs and typical western culture.
Give me this Dreamland, the nearest take off point to the moon.
Give me the Texas that I crave for!
The land of versatile dreams for the fantasizer.
Give me this vintage and modern land or nothing else.
Ever Again
I heard the “thuck” as the Proud Boy
smacked my head with a baseball bat
–his staff of righteousness–as if he
were playing cleanup for the St. Louis
Cardinals.
I felt a brief flash of pain, followed by
a metallic taste on my tongue and an
acrid odor in my nostrils. Was I dying?
I wondered.
“Goddamn faggot,” he cursed me and
then my mother, for giving birth to such
a puke. I’m certain that He delivered
numerous subsequent blows but I felt
nothing–ever again.
Mom, You’re Prettier than Lucy
Lucille Ball was our household icon. She
was pretty and funny and clever; she was
everywhere: on TV, in the movies, the
newspapers and so on. We couldn’t get
enough of her.
As a redhead myself I naturally gravitated
toward Lucy. In fact, I thought wistfully that
a marriage between Lucy and popular
comedian Red Skelton, another redhead,
would produce the ideal parents. I was
eight years old.
So one night, when we were in the basement,
watching television, Mom tossed me the
latest TV Guide, which featured on its
cover a photo of Lucille Ball. “She’s pretty,
isn’t she?” she asked me. i surveyed the
photo critically, then issued my opinion.
“Mom, you’re prettier than Lucy,” I said quite
honestly. She looked up from her crocheting,
startled. “Me?” she squeaked, unbelievingly.
“Sure,” I reiterated determinedly, “you’re lots
prettier than Lucy.” I glanced at her,
wondering why she was so surprised. “Do you
really mean that?” she asked softly. I told her
I did. I’d no idea I had rendered such a
profound compliment.
I guess it was a combination of things that made
me feel that way: a son’s love, a positive, nurturing
role model, and she was, in fact, quite pretty. Mom
said nothing more, but looked back down at her
needlework, a little smile playing on her lips.
Quicksilver
I knew that this world wasn’t for keeps.
In youth, I clutched
to my breast many precious things–fresh
turned soil; newborn
kittens, the soft hand of my dear wife.
In middle age I
beheld objects I treasured–a vivid yellow
field of corn, in
full flower; drops of dew clinging to
gossamer wisps
of silk, strung through a copse and glittering
in the morning
sunlight. my daughter dressed for Prom.
With age I know
things I will always keep close–the strength of
righteous liberty;
love of country and of God; and the knowledge
that life is but
ephemeral, and will soon pass like quicksilver
through my fingers.
most of my adult life
just love sitting around
listening to people bitch
about how much sleep
they are not getting
it makes me laugh
for most of my adult
life i haven’t got more
than four hours a night
people are usually
shocked and warn me
about how unhealthy
that totally is
usually, i’ll shoot
them a look and then
they will understand
i have no interest
in living a long life
just want to get the
shit done i can while
i’m living
i won’t give two shits
about any of this after
i die
—————————————————————————–
where nothing good ever happens
and here come
the ghosts of all
the nightmares
to come
a leonard cohen
paradise overtaken
by david lynch
she laughs as i
nervously pace
the floor
i ask her
what’s
so funny
she says your zipper
is down dumbass
i look and realize
the zipper is now
broken but it has
become a black hole
where nothing good
ever happens
yet another one
of those sad truths
i pour myself a drink
and start the process
of ending this once
and for all
————————————————————————–
starts to taste like sorrow
anytime my birthday rolls
around i start thinking
about death
i know i don’t have that
many more to live through
the parties don’t happen
anymore
the alcohol starts to taste
like sorrow
i can’t help but think
of the number of people
that don’t remember
but it would be a crime
if i would forget theirs
this is where i should
have embraced being
a sociopath earlier in
life and just burn all
the fucking bridges
to the ground
instead
its a restless night alone
patiently waiting for death
or a partner to do it for me
imagine those poems
—————————————————————————————
she said i love you two days ago
thanks for wasting my time
that was the line some russian
bot typed to me after i refused
to give her money to take care
of her sick grandmother
it made me wonder, i’m sure
these bots have a certain quota
they have to meet each day
and given the number of times
i say no to going out to get a
gift card or send money
they must get pretty frustrated
given all the nude pictures
they send
i want to think of it like
a sweatshop
but the workers are killed
when they don’t meet that
quota
now there’s a thought that
will have me sleeping
comfortable at night
———————————————————————–
some majestic soul
turn on the
old tunes
a cool woman
by your side
old enough now
to understand
the games of
love
and all the
silliness that
wastes everyone’s
time
fall asleep in the
arms of an angel
some majestic soul
that has decided
you’re the lucky
one
finally, a damn lottery
i didn’t have to buy
a ticket for
J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is trapped in suburbia, plotting his escape. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Lothlorien Poetry Journal, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Dope Fiend Daily, Disturb the Universe Magazine and Horror Sleaze Trash. Rumor has it, he may have a new book of poems coming out sometime in 2025. You can find him daily on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)
Ina Coolbrith Circle
sponsors the 98th ANNUAL SPRING CONTEST
(formerly Poets’ Dinner)
Open to All Poets Entry Fee: $20
Awards Announcements During Program ON ZOOM
Saturday, June 7, 2025, 1 pm to 4 pm
Must Attend on Zoom to be Eligible for Awards
THEME: INFINITY GUEST SPEAKER: to be determined
CATEGORIES:
BEGINNINGS & ENDINGS, HUMOR, LOVE, NATURE, PEOPLE, POET’S CHOICE, SPACES & PLACES,
THEME (INFINITY)
Poems must be original, in English, not have appeared online or in any journal or newspaper professionally published and
not be previous cash prizewinners (Honorable Mentions OK). Winning poems may be included in a future anthology. 42-line
maximum (not including spaces), any form or style. Up to four entries (4) per person; one (1) per category
AWARDS PROCEDURE: Winning entries will be announced ONLY on Saturday, June 7 and checked against the master list. If there
is NO CLAIM, the prize will go to the next ranked submission. Judges’ decisions are final.
NOTE: The Ina Coolbrith Circle invites all those interested in poetry to its September 20th meeting on Zoom where winners are
invited to read their winning poems.
DONATIONS: Contributions to sustain awards may be sent to Awards Co-Chair Natica Angilly,
1515 Poplar Ave., Richmond, CA 94805-1662. (Donor calls only, please, no books): (510) 235-0361.
Find us at: https://sites.google.com/site/poetsdinner
https://www.facebook.com/PoetsDinnerContest http://coolpoetry.org/
Earn your parents’ trust.
You have lived so many years of health,
You have done so well.
Now gather your mental quickly,
Earn your parents’ trust.
Discussed a lot of with heart.
You have done your greed helpless
Now gather your share-out.
Earn your parent’s trust.
You are done linguist by destine
You have decided Orientist.
Now You struggle quickly
Earn your parent’s trust.
Allah gives chance repeatedly.
Mean knowledge is available for you
Now You will have done again.
Earn your parent’s trust.
Go-between used to come and left.
You have cried, said ”l will read”
Now you don’t lose your way.
Earn your parent’s trust.
They told: “No married, another girl”
Girls are too much on trees.
You said: l have got a lot responsibility.
Earn your parent’s trust.
Believe. None of parents don’t
connect their hope from girl.
Go to Makkah together them.
Earn your parent’s trust.
Ask only from again Allah
He is Al-Majiyd from unique lord
İf you write poem, write only from life
Earn your parent’s trust.
Murodullayeva Muharramxon Rustam qizi