FC: Khalil: The Inside Story by: Khalil Smith Glenn 1st period
1: Page 1: Where I'm From Page 2: My Mother's Kitchen Page 3: Mother to Son Page 4: An Ode to GSMST Page 5: The Art of Speech and Writing Page 6: Hallelujah By: John Cale Page 7: The Raven By: Edgar Allen Poe
3: Where I’m From By: Khalil Smith Glenn 1st period I’m from a small island off the east coast of the U.S. From an apartment to a small house for three people on the west coast To a big monster of a house for two people in Georgia But I’m still from that small island called Bermuda. I’m from rosy pink sand and sapphire blue water on the beaches of Bermuda From the golden gate bridge in Oakland, CA And red clay dirt in Lilburn, GA But my heart stays in those clear sapphire blue waves I’m from a caring mother and loving father From my cousins both older and younger than I And new people in a new place But my mom and dad will always be there if not in body in spirit I’m from perseverance and intelligence Both of which help me lead my life From love that takes me from the strife And pride so I can hold my head high This is where I’m from From these feelings These places and these people This is what makes me who I am.
5: My Mother’s Kitchen By: Khalil Smith Glenn 1st period My mother’s kitchen White and sparkling clean My sister walks through Looking for food The oven in the middle of the wall Off but still huge My sister looking for my mom For a snack before the prom The once living plants now drooping with death My mom nowhere to be found My sister in her blue and white dress Standing in the center of the kitchen Right next to her unripe tomatoes Still green and on the vine Fruit in a basket My sister pretending not to see She goes for the rice crispy treats in the cupboard Mom right behind her with an apple Walks her out to the limo The kitchen silent and empty again
7: Mother to Son By: Khalil Smith Glenn smith Khalil learn about life now or you’ll regret it later Life’s a hard road to travel And some things will be a traitor Love is on the line It can be good or evil It can be divine or treat you like swine Hate is something you should never have People are people and always will be And hate is something you should never have There will be peaceful times in your life Never take these times for granted Lest you let in strife War and battles will always be With both friends and enemies But when you give up hate you will be free Life is a hard road to walk Listen to me And every gate will be unlocked
9: An Ode to GSMST By: Khalil Smith Glenn 1st period GSMST so small but soon you will grow. This we all should know Now we’re not like other schools But to me we’re better than them Robotics club is cool And few schools have ‘em This is a school for you to work If you don’t it will eat you alive And leave nothing to identify So make sure you don’t shirk Your work and you’ll survive This school that seems like a hive It sets you up for your future life So you won’t end up with strife But currently this school is mean I feel like I need to scream But I won’t Because others are in the same boat I love this school so very much I’ve made new friends who like me For who I am The white wash brick is cool to the touch Hopefully I’ll get a degree And won’t end up pulling a scam Oh GSMST I am sad I will only get four years I said I won’t shed my tears Instead I’ll stay a happy lad
11: The art of speech and writing. By: Khalil Smith Glenn 1st period The art of speech and writing from the heart This is what I think of language arts Lessons from the world Mixed together in a swirl Things never to drift apart Essays, teach us how to write And research papers how to cite But poems display our feelings To vent about our daily dealings To make everything feel alright Verbs, adjectives, and other parts of speech Are some of the things the teachers teach Though we think we’ll never use it I bet your mind won’t lose a bit And will always keep it in reach Romeo and Juliet, the romantic poem everyone knows Just like they know the rose And The Odyssey, the epic poem filled with the anger of gods In which Odysseus beats all odds And to his home in triumph he rose. This is language arts to me A class where your mind can fly free Where you can forget reality And dream in theatricality And let it be where it wants to be
13: I've heard there was a secret chord That David played and it pleased the Lord But you don't really care for music, do you? It goes like this The fourth, the fifth The minor fall, the major lift The baffled king composing Hallelujah Hallelujah Your faith was strong, but you needed proof You saw her bathing on the roof Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you She tied you To a kitchen chair She broke your throne, she cut your hair And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah Hallelujah Baby I've been here before, I know this room I've walked this floor I used to live alone before I knew you I've seen your flag on the Marble Arch Love is not a victory march It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah Hallelujah There was a time you let me know What's really going on below But now you never show it to me, do you? I remember when I moved in you And the holy dove was moving too And every breath we drew was Hallelujah Hallelujah Maybe there's a God above, all I ever learned from love Was how to shoot at someone who out drew you And it's not a cry you can hear at night It's not somebody who's seen the light It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah Hallelujah Hallelujah
14: Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore, While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. `'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door - Only this, and nothing more.' Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore - For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Nameless here for evermore. And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating `'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door - Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; - This it is, and nothing more,' Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer, `Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore; But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping, And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door, That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; - Darkness there, and nothing more. Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing, Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token, And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!' This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!' Merely this and nothing more. Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before. `Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice; Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore - Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; - 'Tis the wind and nothing more!' Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter, In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore. Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he; But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door - Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door - Perched, and sat, and nothing more. Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling, By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore, `Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven. Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore - Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door - Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as `Nevermore.'
15: But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only, That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour. Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered - Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before - On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.' Then the bird said, `Nevermore.' Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, `Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore - Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of "Never-nevermore."' But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore - What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking `Nevermore.' This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core; This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er, But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er, She shall press, ah, nevermore! Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor. `Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore! Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! - Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted - On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore - Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore - Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' `Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting - `Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore! Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken! Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!' Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.' And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor; And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted - nevermore!