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Interviews

where we discuss the blues

Mellow Mills

Ep. 82

OneHitWonder

Ep. 80

Aishia K

Ep. 78

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Music

While listening to the blues

Just the Music XXVII

Ep. 81

Vines of mending

Ep. 79

Just the Music XXVI

Ep. 77

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The sound rolls off her tongue like the last drop of water in a
barren wasteland
and I stand
ready to receive her with cupped hands
I'm not sure if it's always been a part of her regular vocabulary
but when she
says baby to me
it feels like she's never said it to anyone but me
it comforts me

Like a warm blanket in chilly room
fully immersed as if I was back in the womb
This may sound dumb
but, she makes a brother wanna suck his thumb
She makes me feel like it's ok to be vulnerable, open and
honest
She makes me feel like it's ok to be weak without losing the
strength of my hand
she makes me feel like a man
Baby dances on her lips mere seconds but it's more like hours
in a hot shower
after a stress filled day the sound consumes me with its warmth
raising the temperature of my body
just enough to separate me from the coldness of my reality

One of her babys makes [me] feel like I I fell in love for the first
time
multiplied 100 times
I'm

Lost in the thought of her saying baby it makes me weak
it makes me feel like my heart skipped a beat.
It makes me feel like my insides shifted
this is what it must be like to feel splifted
almost like being Holy Ghost lifted
Every letter and both syllables sneaks in to my ears and down
my spine
and for the briefest of time
I'm
two-hundred and twenty-five pounds of quivering jello
Solid, tangible, visible, but just like jello
she sees right through me and with the softest touch she
passes right through
it's like my heart is that orange slice in the center she's trying to
get to
I don't always do
what she wants me to do
She uses that word like she's a jockey with a whip
And I'm her stallion chomping at the bit

She uses baby like some kind of Jedi mind trick
And I'm left dangling on her hook like a big mouth bass that just
took the bait
I can't wait to do whatever it is she wants me to do

She says it and it melts me
Like Obi Wan she persuades me
I swear she is the voice of heaven

It's too bad she wasn't there September 11th
That's when she should have used her power / what a more
useful way to wield her power

Baby don't fly in to that tower
Oh, George baby move faster we're under attack!
Baby wrong country don't bomb Iraq!
Baby find Bin Laden he's the problem!
Baby bring the troops home they don't wanna die for oil no
more!
We've made enough money lower gas prices stop gouging the
poor!
Stop the genocide in Darfur!
Baby, make the teachers stop sleeping with our babies!

Prosecute those cops!
Being Black's not a crime he didn't deserve 43 shots!
Baby even if you think abortion's wrong it's not your decision
Baby you have more important things to do
who marries who
is none of your business!
Baby there's nothing patriotic about that act!
Baby that's illegal you can't do that!

BABY!!

If her Babys were mine I would share them with the...

No I wouldn't.

I'd keep them
for myself...

The title of the poem, If I Must Die, are written in a slightly larger font than the poem's font. The author's name, Dr. Refaat Alareer, are written in brown beside the poem.

The poem reads:

If I must die,
you must live to tell my story
to sell my things
to buy a piece of white cloth
and some strings,
(make it white with a long tail)
so that a child, somewhere in Gaza
while looking heaven in the eye
awaiting his dad who left in a blaze
—and bid no one farewell
not even to his flesh
not even to himself —
sees the kite, my kite you made, flying
up above
and thinks for a moment an angel is
there
brings back love
if I must die
let it bring hope
let it be a tale

The poem, titled Produce, is displayed against a salmon pink background. The poem reads:

At the supermarket the fresh fruits are located towards the front
just like workaholics never leave.
First in and last out
Work, work, don't stop for fear of a big flop.
The topic of conversation centers around worth
and fresh items don't last long
when constantly exposed.
Preservatives are now under fire
just like mental health days.
Escaping from your aisle in the grocery store
to post reels from punta cana doesn't erase the fact that
fresh fruit is high in sugar, will rot if not eaten within three to four
days
and attracts nats.
As we sit at desks, peering at screens, swating at flies that somehow
won't go away
avoiding the fact that bugs are attracted to feces.
We forget each day that technology will make us an extinct species.

A drawing of a yellow crescent moon and yellow star between two small, yellow clouds is to the left of the title of poem, Misplaced. The poem is written underneath the moon, star and clouds. The first page of the poem, Misplaced, reads:

She's grieving u and projecting misplaced feelings on me.

Anger wraps itself around my neck. Gripping tighter, the air leaves my body.

I'm wondering when I'll be able to breathe easily again.

The ringing won't stop. Restless, I can't sleep.

The second page of the poem, Misplaced, reads:

She's grieving u, projecting misplaced feelings on me.
I hear the knuckles of anger crack as it squeezes my neck tighter.
"Please, just let me breathe."
I existed before u, during u, and after u.
As a whole person.
I didn't care to know about her, or him, or them... Still don't

The third page of the poem, Misplaced, reads:

The anger tosses me into a shallow pool.
Gasping for air, water floods in.
Ripping through my brain exposing
Memories.
Moments that were never love.
As the grip loosens, I pray I don't heave.
It's not right, it's not fair.
I want love not whatever that was.

The fourth page of the poem, Misplaced, reads:

U used to massage my worries away.
Carefully,
u would caress my body,
Kneading love into my skin.
This is where we existed.
Sunlight fading into night
Lemon and lavender essential oils evaporated.

The last page of the poem reads:

Fear crept in with a sense of urgency. Impatiently,
u pondered the idea of another.
Feeling time unwind.
That is how we died,
The moon waxing into its fullness
Tiny tears and cum condensed.

A blue blended into shades of purple, green and yellow background. The title of the poem, TELL, sits at the top in between two white shimmering stars. This is the 1st page of the poem. It reads:

"I might as well have Jezebel tattooed underneath my eyes. The spilled ink circles its way around my hips and inundates the next person with feelings of lust. This body reeks of jealousy and insecurity, all wrapped up in an hourglass. Coke-bottle popping body, this body carries an aroma of hope and love that reaches down into ur belly; so every time I enter a room, it feels like a light draft tickles the inside of ur ribcage. Easily misunderstood, hardly ever well comprehended. Tell me u see something beyond this body? Tell me u see me for my worth? Tell me u see me for more than what I can do for and to u?

A blue blended into shades of purple, green and yellow background. The title of the poem, TELL, sits at the top in between two white shimmering stars. This is the 2nd page of the poem. It reads:

"Can u just talk to me for a minute? Make urself comfortable, unwind and let go. Tell me about all of ur insecurities, ur feelings, ur loves, and the past lives you've lived. Tell me about ur losses and failures, ur wins and success. Tell me how much u dream but when u wake up, u don't always remember so u wonder if they're even worth chasing. I can see so much in u, but ur hesitation haunts me. That lickable lump in ur throat is begging to be freed, so why keep it captivated? See, I can't have u ghosting me. Filling my corridors with ur scent, only to be left with no trace of u in my halls. I can't afford to hire a ghostbuster. I need something tangible to explain that my feelings are worth holding onto..."

A blue blended into shades of purple, green and yellow background. The title of the poem, TELL, sits at the top in between two white shimmering stars. This is the 3rd page of the poem. It reads:

"in both of our hands. Because I don't want u holding on to urs and mine alone. Can't we share the feelings? Have a mutual understanding of love and what it means to have a deep connection that transcends the boundaries of space and time. If I give u space, will u lose track of time and get lost in someone else'e curves? If I give u time, will u take up space and find urself in someone else's home?"

The first page of the untitled poem featured in Ep. 39 Capture Land is displayed on wrinkled paper with pink flowers and a green stem pressed into the page. The bottom corners of the page are burned.

The poem begins:

The land is barren now.
What used to be trees and flourishing fauna, is now just concrete.
After they came through, admiring the abundance of nature and it's beauty, they settled on a price.

"200 million seems reasonable."

They didn't ask the trees if they'd be at peace with the new occupants.
They didn't ask the deer, the jaguars, the beavers, or the ants.
Honestly, it's not even clear who they were negotiating with.
[italized] No one spoke like that around here.
We never needed to negotiate a price because things were never taken rather
exchanged recycled returned.
The price sounded like robbery.
The rubbery skin of the questionnaire pulled back exposing bigger, whiter teeth tan even the jaguar or so it had seemed.

They left and didn't return until we had forgotten they were ever here.
Moss grew over their imprints until,
suddenly,
they returned.

The second page of the poem, untitled, for Ep. 39 Capture Land. The poem is displayed on an image of wrinkled paper that is burning on the left corner edges. There are pressed flowers and stems adorning the paper. The poem continues:

The rumbling and shaking of the ground caused the birds to fly away as if they knew what was coming.
Piles of trees fell flat, collapsing on top of each other.
Whole families, lineages escaped their homes as fast as they could in fear that they, too, would be found in piles.

The news of the destruction quickly spread. But this type of exchange had never been experienced.
What were they going to do with all those trees?
And 200 million, what does that compare?
What does that mean to families uprooted?

The first page of the poem, Who Do U Call?, is written across a dark blue background that looks like a radar. With radar waves emitting from the center of the map defusing at an even interval. The author's moniker, The Sweetest T, is written on the continent of Africa within the second circle from the center

The poem begins:

Who do u call when the murderer wears a badge?
I call my homie up, where ya at?
She told me this ain't that.
But gang 'nem told me they'll be wherever it's at
So I wonder who do u call
When it's a roll of die
Whether or not I'll end up alive
At the end of it all
U better call Saul
Or Attorney Crump
Cus u gonna need a good lawyer
To process the fees
After making a mistake like
Forgetting to put on a turn signal
Or riding dirty with a broke taillight
Or breathing wrong
Or speaking wrong
Or looking like u do
Is enough to agitate and spark fear —
No anger
Enough to exert power over our bodies

2nd page of the poem, Who Do U Call?, is written across the same background as the 1st page. The author's moniker, The Sweetest T, is written on the continent of Africa within the first circle in the center.

The poem continues:

To remind us why this force was created
Yes the police forces us to comply to bends
And breaks and pressures on our neck to stay
Silent and divided and in pain
Remember one wrong move could have ur
Kids taken away, u thrown in jail, or worse
Murdered

The poem is written across an image of a blue sky with wisps of clouds at the bottom left corner that spreads across the bottom of the image and small wisps at the top right corner. There are images of flocks of birds in both the bottom left and top right corners. The title of the poem, Say My Name, is written in white cursive font. The author's full name, Tiara Sivells, is written amongst the clouds in the lower half of the image.

The poem reads:

I fear if I forget u
I will lose u forever

If it were only a few,
It might be easier to remember

So I whisper ur name
Softly, then all at once.

Trying to overcome the shame
That these are all fronts

When u say it with ur chesst
Do u know u must continue?

To organize, to overcome, to relieve the stress
No matter the venue

And when she forgets ur name, temporarily
Unintentionally, she wishes to live life

She works to work momentarily
Perhaps, not understanding that this strife

[italicized] Is collectively felt
[italicized] Disrespectfully dealt

To us
For us

Is it generational wealth
Or happiness and health

That we are searching for
Always alluding towards?

Is pain the only thing worth sharing?

Against a sky blue background, line art of lemons, mint leaves and honeycomb decorates the page. The author's name, Tiara, is written beside one of the mint leaves. The poem Labels is printed on an off-white sheet.

The poem reads:

In order to stay healthy, we are told to properly examine the labels. Read the fine thoroughly. What does it say? Is it all natural?

No unnecessary chemicals.
No additives.
No genetic modifications.

What does that even mean? How can I tell my brain to stop making sad chemicals? Fear chemicals? Just leave me with the happy ones.

And additives? Do they properly compliment the growth? Look how much time it took to make this product. Now, it sits on a shelf compared to tens of other similar items. Without the additives, won't it spoil over time?

I'm not one to knock genetic modifications as I've never tried cotton-candy grapes. I can appreciate the idea. I can empathize with the idea that a normal green grape isn't quite sweet enough alone. When compared to red grapes, purple grapes, it's easy to believe this change is necessary—groundbreaking, even.

I fear that these labels will define us before we can even acknowledge what is beyond the label. Before we can acknowledge the existence of such a product, they tell us carefully examine the label. Read the fine print thoroughly.

The title, Gaslight the Colonizer, of this poetic interlude written by The Sweetest T is shown across fire in all capital letters. In the bottom right the text reads:
A Poetic Interlude
Written by The Sweetest T

The first page of the first poem featured in this interlude is titled, The Colonizer. The image background is the color black on the left side of the image fading into a burnt orange. At the bottom left corner, there is a line drawing of a fire. The author's monicker, The Sweetest T, is written in between the two columns of text. The poem separated into two columns reads:
I just want to cry.
In the tub.
Soaking in the salts.
Let it season me
Until I'm tender. I's
realize, master
U ain't the one
If I have to
Beg
And beg
And beg
To be loved
How I need to be loved
And when I tell u
How I like to be caressed
Gently
Or how I like to be
In your space,
Myspace blogs said
A slap in the face
As I tease
The ecstasy out of u
Is a sign of love for
A masochist.
Kiss
Away my tears
As I choke
On u
Lonely
Son of a B*

The second page of the first poem, The Colonizer, has a subtitle, quote White Man Tendencies unquote, written underneath the title. The background of the image is the same as the previous. However, there is faded image of a fire in darkest part of the background. On the opposing side, where the burnt orange is the lightest, rests a gas canister digitally glitching. The author's monicker, The Sweetest T, is written above the canister in the same color. The poem's text is centered on the page; it reads:
I can't keep track of what's real.
Take a canister and gaslight my mind.
Exploit me.
Ravage my body and set it on fire.

I can't keep track of what's real.
Steal all my crops and forget my name.
Leave me.
Bring reinforcements and leave no parts untouched.

The second poem of this poetic interlude, Gaslight the Colonizer, is written on the same background as the first poem. The poem is only in one column with the text placed on the left. Another line drawing of a fire in beige is shown in the bottom right corner. This poem, referred to as Gaslit in the music show, is titled Gaslight at the top of the page. The author's name seemingly missing is in black at the edge of the black fading into the burnt orange in the same line as the last line of the poem.

The first page of the poem reads:
u ever been gaslit before?

Mixes of u done it now's and can't possibly be's.
On top of inner guttural feelings
Building up —
Intrepidity

Incessant cries screaming for justice and peace
To blank stares, unblinking & unbothered
Feeding off—
Trepidation

The second page of the second poem is written in the same format as the previous image. A line drawing of a gas canister with a fire symbolized in the center is positioned slightly off-centered to the right. The author's monicker is written just below the fire symbol in the same color as the canister.
The rest of the poem reads:
u ever been gaslit before?

Affiliations of we got u's and charity events
On top of pernicious, greedy grins
Biting off—
Controversy

u ever been gaslit before?

Enhanced interrogations lined with blood water & adrenaline
Next to smiling, battered faces
Trending on—
Adversity

u ever been gaslit before?

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Poetry

What is Give U Blues?

Give U Blues is a show that was created in response to the lack of conversation about R&B in mainstream media. DJ The Sweetest T wanted to showcase and dive into the roots of R&B and show how many genres of music are and have been influenced by the blues. Not only can you listen to mixes of amazing songs but also hear from different artists about their blues.

g i v e u b l u e s

Welcome visitors to your site with a short, engaging introduction. Double click to edit and add your own text.

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