CHARM: My Baltimore by charmlitmag

Spring 2017

Special Baltimore Edition

CHARM:

Voices of Baltimore Youth A literary and arts magazine featuring writing and art by Baltimore students.

Foreward Dear Readers, The CHARM: Voices of Baltimore Youth editorial team strongly believes in freedom of expression, that the creativity within a person can and should be shared in this magazine. Whether it’s a poem, song lyrics, artwork, or story, each piece comes from a creative part inside of each student, and we value that. Some of the work contains profanity or painful words or themes that may not be suitable for younger readers. However, we respect each artist’s right to share their ideas and experiences. These writers have worked very hard to create the pieces that you see in our magazine. We want to thank all of the people who are published here and all of the people who helped put together this magazine. We hope you enjoy the Spring 2017 Special Baltimore Edition of CHARM: Voices of Baltimore Youth. – Kayla Drummond, on behalf of the Student Editorial Board of CHARM

Table of Contents City Lights – Ciara Bethea, Amir Darby, Alice Delanoy, Laurel Sands, Lindsey Sands, Jasmine Scott, Jon Veale .................................................................................................1 Carli Thinks – Carli Alderman and Jalysia Crawford ....................................................2 Alternate Names for Her – Kayah Calhoun .............................................................3 Black Panther – Anaya White ..................................................................................4 My Side of the City – Mykayla Brown . ....................................................................5 My Baltimore – Lawton Simms . ...............................................................................6 Ravens Drawing – Rashad Lewis .............................................................................7 My House on Parkden Street – Alice Delanoy ........................................................8 Nighttime – Amir Darby ..........................................................................................9 Here is the Place I Call Home – Ciara Bethea, Amir Darby, Alice Relaney, Laurel Sands, Lindsey Sands, Jasmine Scott, Jon Veale . ....................................................10 My Baltimore is Strong – Brianna Alston-Fuller ....................................................11 Improvised Word Association Poem – Baltimore #1 – Ciara Bethea, Amir Darby, Alice Delanoy, Laurel Sands, Lindsey Sands, Jasmine Scott, Jon Veale . ............12 Alternate Names for Black Girls – Kobi Brown ...................................................13 Alternate Names for Gay Kids – Kristiana Smith .................................................14 Love Each Other – Anonymous. .............................................................................15 Trashcan – Ciara Bethea .........................................................................................16 It Passes Over Me – Nijaya Brown .........................................................................17 Unknown City – Ciara Bethea ...............................................................................18 Six Word Stories – Calverton Elementary/Middle School ............................................19 B-More Hurt – Nathan Banks . ..............................................................................20 Urban Pain – Zoe Peters .........................................................................................21 Day of the Dead Skull – Jasmine Brooks ................................................................22 Black Lives Matter – Tishera Quick .......................................................................23 Falling Like Dominoes – Rashad Holloway ...........................................................24 A Misconception of Baltimore – Adrienne Cooper ...............................................25 This Isn’t a Poem – Anaya White . .........................................................................26 Alternate Names for a Black Boy – Rashad Holloway ..........................................27 Photograph of the Washington Monument – Nijaya Brown .............................28 We Are Not Different – Jasmine Brooks . ...............................................................29 My House on Conkling Street – Jahda Owens .....................................................30 My House on Clinton Street – Emani Owens . .....................................................31 My Tribes – Ana Aguilar-Chagala ...........................................................................32 World Trade Center – Kristiana Smith ..................................................................33 My Tribes – Ajuan McDaniel ..................................................................................34

City Senses, or 5 Senses – Kobi Brown . ................................................................35 My House – Shantika Bhat .....................................................................................36 My Tribes – Shantika Bhat .....................................................................................37 The Unofficial and Unwritten Rules for Living in Baltimore – Kahree Roberts ...............................................................................38 My City – Marian Tibrey .........................................................................................39 Oh Baltimore – Jasmine Brooks ..............................................................................40 Pennsylvania Avenue – Rashad Holloway, Jr. .........................................................42 Bullets Don’t Have Names on Them – Zaire Avery ............................................44 Daybreak in Baltimore – Amaya Burke ................................................................45

City Lights (Passed Poem #1)

Ciara Bethea, Amir Darby, Alice Delanoy, Laurel Sands, Lindsey Sands, Jasmine Scott, Jon Veale

Walking down the street, I hear some music I love music The rhythm fills my ears I sway along to the beat The music I can feel it In my soul It’s moving me Down Down Down the street While I’m bopping along The cars seem to be dancing along, too Along with other pedestrians Dancing along The city lights Shine bright It becomes A lit city dance

Carli Thinks

Carli Alderman and Jalysia Crawford | 8th Grade | The Midtown Academy

Alternate Names For Her

Kayah Calhoun | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

1. Four Eyes 2. The Bird With No Voice 3. Brownie-locks 4. Big Foot 5. Mean, Median, Mode 6. A Snowflake 7. Sleeping Beauty 8. Ugly Duckling 9. Dancing In The Wings 10. A Signal Fire 11 The Sun and The Moon 12. The Chocolate Chip In A Vanilla Ice Cream Topped Off With Caramel 13. The Cookie Monster 15. A Warrior Against The Ball Of Fire 16. A Beautiful Oriole Learning How To Fly

Black Panther

Anaya White | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

My Side of the City

Mykayla Brown | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

Where the drive from the Alameda To York Road hasn’t changed yet Where hanging out with friends at Towson Mall Has become a habit Where trips to the Aquarium Never grow old And there’s always something new in the Inner Harbor To behold At the top floor in the World Trade Center The view is oh-so-pretty If you saw it maybe you would see My side of the city

My Baltimore

Lawton Simms | 6th Grade | Roland Park Elementary Middle School

My Baltimore is full of diversity It is America’s best city Far and wide A city diversified Makes it truly the best it can be My Baltimore wears orange and purple with pride And nothing beats watching a game outside A city full of history and swag Especially Fort McHenry and that flag. Friends come to greet you Some old and some new Because in my Baltimore Friends are even more Than what they’re said to be. I’ve lived in states coast to coast And so far, I love Baltimore the most When the snow comes around Everything shuts down For us kids, we understand That the next couple days, are a winter wonderland. Baltimore has its ups and its downs It has its smiles and its frowns From my 6th grade point-of-view There is much to do To make this great city The best it can be So no one can harm This Baltimore Charm. 6

Ravens Drawing

Rashad Lewis | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

My House on Parkden Street Alice Delanoy | Margaret Brent Elementary

I love the house on Parkden street. Small and white with a big personality. The garden with flowers and a diseased peach tree. The deer in the forest. The studio where mom and dad work on projects like photography and sewing. The inside is a mess with toys, books, and cat hair. Black cats laying anywhere and everywhere. The queens of the house. My violin with strings tuned to the pitch of a viola, the half green, half red harpsichord, and the little piano making music, a gift to my little sister from our neighbor’s cat, Dinah. The TV making noise. The downstairs bathroom with the haunted shower curtain. The mirror with someone on the other side. The ghost stories of the kid that snuggled my mom. The mischievous ghost that hates my dad. The ghost cats. Early in the morning I’ll wake up and have the feeling someone’s watching me, but there’s nobody there. I wish my house was a cookie, an oatmeal raisin cookie, so I could break off a piece of it and eat it anytime I wanted.

Nighttime

Amir Darby | 7th Grade | The Midtown Academy

Nightime, the world is on hold, people getting ready to recharge for the next day, streetlights shining bright along with the cities many buildings. The birds are tucking away their hatchlings in the nest for bedtime. The harbor quiet as can be, the water flowing to the beat…the beat of Nightime.

Here Is This Place I Call Home (Passed Poem #2)

Ciara Bethea, Amir Darby, Alice Relaney, Laurel Sands, Lindsey Sands, Jasmine Scott, Jon Veale

Here is this place I call home Busy streets and sidewalks are what I’m used to The guns and violence, too Why do I call this place home? It’s where I first started Where my heart is My soul My beacon Where I can share It’s where I Want To Be But why Oh why Does the place I call home Crumble so?

My Baltimore is Strong

Brianna Alston-Fuller | 8th Grade | The Midtown Academy

City streets Rats past my feet The harbor is in my gaze City bikes and streetlights I adore the Baltimore haze. Camden Yards And boulevards Purple and orange you know Star spangled banner A civil manner My Baltimore will never go. People killed And drug deals The funerals will go on Filled with sorrow There’s no tomorrow My Baltimore is strong.

Improvised Word Association Poem - Baltimore #1

Ciara Bethea, Amir Darby, Alice Delanoy, Laurel Sands, Lindsey Sands, Jasmine Scott, Jon Veale

Baltimore Graffiti Wall Wrong? WALL Huh? W-A-L-L Oh Busy City Walking Shoes Jordans Trash Trashcan Street Pedestrians Bus Transportation Car Road Sidewalk Driving Streetlight Streets Baltimore

Alternate Names for Black Girls Kobi Brown | 8th Grade | The Midtown Academy

1. Flexin my complexion 2. Strong 3. Powerful 4. Wild forest of hair 5. Sisterhood 6. A mother’s angel 7. The ashes that turn into a phoenix 8. Beautiful just the way you are 9. Flower flourishing through all the chaos 10. I’ll Rise, I’ll Rise, I’ll Rise

Alternate Names For Gay Kids

Kristiana Smith | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

1. Confused 2. Lost in the Sea of Unspoken Identity 3. Attention-seeking 4. Unfaithful 5. Religiously treacherous 6. Bent until no longer straight 7. Speck of dust swept under the closet door 8. A mask of Bible passages hiding warm waves of saline 9. The volatile line between holiness and sacrilegious 10. Bastard of the Church 11. Shaken bottle of Coke, building up bubbles and courage, ready to burst 12. Sinner that can be redeemed 13. Daisy with roots ripped from the ground

Love Each Other

Anonymous | 8th Grade | Roland Park Elementary Middle School

Trashcan

Ciara Bethea | 7th Grade | The Midtown Academy

Every day, I’m here on the corner of Charles St., watching Eagles, Ravens, and Orioles flying in the blue sky, and then someone comes and, throws their banana peel that smells like old rotten chili my grandma used to make, or an apple core that smells like my 19-year-old brother after he’s taken a bath. then I think, is this where I want to stand, literally, for the rest of my life, being a holder for your waste. Then I look up and see those birds, and I say everything alright, until somebody throws a bottle that smells like my aunt Mandy after her shift over at the car dealership, but then I dream What if I were a person, who could talk, who could run, who could throw things in a trash can, but that’s the American dream.

It Passes Over Me

Nijaya Brown | 6th Grade | Baltimore Leadership School for Young Women

It passes over me like air thick with humidity. I am desperate to feel a cool breeze not soaked with depressing heaviness. A change of scenery would do me good. But I am trapped in a perpetual merry-go-round of doubt. Always weary, I am condemned to these boundaries. Never grasping my ability to escape into lightness that lifts me off my feet. I agonize for the day I see my relief.

Unknown City

Ciara Bethea | 7th Grade | The Midtown Academy

A dominant city, a colorful variety of people, places, and creatures but doesn’t last forever, people don’t like the thought of immigrants coming to America uninvited, so they try to stop them, but why, what’s the point, people don’t care for others, some people don’t like that blacks get to have a say in everything, our city used to be diverse, but we’re changed, what used to be.

Six Word Stories

Calverton Elementary/Middle School

I thought we should trust you. – Andrea Jenkins Police violence. Blacks. Racism. Beaten. Repeat. – Litayasia Lyles Gone, come back. Kill - they’re gone. – Niekyia Smallwood Stay calm and put it down. – Darnell Edmond I wish I could trust them. I am sorry for your loss. Why can’t they just be fair? Why can’t we just sit together? My life in Baltimore matters, right? – Khaya Griffin

B-More Hurt

Nathan Banks | 5th Grade | Calverton Elementary/Middle School

My life makes me wanna run away. We’ll be okay once this pain flows away. There’s no place to go All this confusion and evolution It’s like a movie. If Barack Obama chooses someone to leave... Choose me.

Urban Pain

Zoe Peters | 11th Grade | Baltimore School for the Arts

I live just about five blocks away from where Freddie Gray was murdered and sometimes I think it’s sad That he died and the city went wild but just like him all of the anger and fight for change went away Now he’s memorialized with paintings on buildings in the hood and people go on living Like everything is all good Well it’s not because every day in Baltimore another block gets “shot up” Guns have become a part of America’s wardrobe for our sons, and it’s a shame that through adolescent life Young black boys train and train and train Truthfully we’re circling the drain because the more they train the less police officers show restraint And that’s the problem today… Fear It’s been eating away at all races for years Blacks fear the police and it comes off as “disrespect” and the police fear blacks and it comes off as “careless neglect” So Freddie Gray dies along with Keith Lamont Scott and some nameless guy whose story didn’t make the news I knew things hadn’t changed when a nine year old girl was seen crying because she was afraid reality She knew that her race was still being left on snooze and written off with the blues But I’m not here to complain about how black people continue to lose I just wish things would change and fear no longer ruled because as long as it does Death is closer to every black male who’s ever lived in conditions that resemble a jail cell because it’s lurking on every corner In every urban city where there is no pity for having a black face and beating beaten down by surviving in such a place Because it seems no one cares since police still brutalize without any remorseful affairs

Day of the Dead Skull

Jasmine Brooks | 9th Grade | Baltimore Leadership School for Young Women

I chose to decorate my skill in order to honor the Freddie Gray Uprising. I chose to honor the Freddie Gray Uprising because so much happened that day, people were scared, and it means a lot because it’s mainly about “black lives matter.” When I think about the Freddie Gray Uprising, the images/symbols that come to mind are: cars on fire, signs up, and police everywhere, throwing rocks, and people lying in the streets. 22

Black Lives Matter

Tishera Quick | 12th Grade | The REACH! Partnership School

Black lives matter, Why should we have to say that at all? That shouldn’t be a statement, NO NOT AT ALL! We are criticized for our color and our relatable traits, We are constantly put through things no one should face, If black lives matter we should put up a fight, But how do we prevail in a world overrun by whites? Do black lives matter? How dare you question. Little do they know there is no better blessing. We show strength and that we can fight for what we believe. We fight against any gun, knife, or chain with which they’ll never achieve. They say black is darkness and white is light, Black is a stain and purity is white but if it wasn’t for black what star would shine bright at night? We are magic and beautiful with the brown of our skin. We are not to be created again. Don’t compare yourself to all the rest. All that matters is you are your best. You are beautiful, funny, and smart. All that matters is what’s in your heart... WE MATTER!

Falling Like Dominoes

Rashad Holloway | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

1963, we were told to overcome 2016, feels like we’re back to square one Black man shot, body on the ground White cop partying, because he didn’t get put down 1 domino, golden sparks fly 2 domino, the old woman cries 3 domino, “Our boys just don’t feel safe” 4 domino, 10-year-old on TV 5 domino, just to get people to see We continue to stand tall And no, we’ll never crawl But one by one, we slowly fall Just like dominoes.

A Misconception of Baltimore

Adrienne Cooper | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

Young black men and women in our society shouldn’t have to live in fear. It seems like you’ve heard this a thousand times, and yet again you’re hearing it here because our African American citizens are still getting beat down in the streets, and nowadays, I don’t know if anyone can trust the police. It seems as though nothing’s changed over all this time simply because some folks stay in their same frame of mind, and cops often forget about freedom of speech and the right to bear arms, because the simple-minded are only satisfied after bringing more harm. I will never understand the mind of a white man and why they forget that part of this is our land. Why is the color of our skin a label of our character? Why do they think that they’re our personal caretakers? And why black men kill black men to me is a mystery Given the fact that we both share common history. Violence isn’t something that we should all accept. If we all knew this, maybe you’d get why I’m upset. Because now people look at our society and think all this is cool. But those with strong morals and ethics think that this is cruel. And for those who actually want to try and change and get to know this generation, Let me be the first to say, my name is Adrienne and one day I’m going to change our nation.

This Isn’t a Poem

Anaya White | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

This isn’t a poem It’s a story I walk down the block Oops, I got shot When will it stop Will the youngsters still be “g’s” Not worry about the “J’s” on their feet Will they expand their mind? Nah, they always say “I’m fine.” Nodding off down the street Don’t cuss, you might get beat They take what’s on ya feet And still be on the right beat This isn’t a poem Don’t get confused Without college you can say I lose Don’t snooze Your opportunity’s fone Now you a fool Don’t forget this isn’t a poem It’s a story

Alternate Names For a Black Boy

Rashad Holloway | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

1. Monster 2. Menace to society 3. Black toxic cloud 4. Red not black 5. It 6. Ingrate 7. Not-so-bad 8. A disgrace to Mom 9. White shell turned Black after an oil spill 10. Eyes carrying a heavy, dirty soul 11. A dark gray sky before your eyes 12. A Hershey chocolate bar with nothing inside 13. 2016 and still a Negro 14. Bad boy wishing for Dreamville 15. Still wanting to believe even if it’s all a lie 16. Translucent 17. A god of anger 18. Misunderstood 19. Mistake 20. The unwelcomed superhero 21. Blackened angel

Photo of Washington Monument

Nijaya Brown | 6th Grade | Baltimore Leadership School for Young Women

We Are Not Different

Jasmine Brooks | 9th Grade | Baltimore Leadership School for Young Women

My heart, my soul, my body tell me to follow my dreams, follow the right path, but in this world today, it’s hard because every time you turn around, there’s always people being let or even shot down like we say black lives matter Cops we supposed to trust with our lives Don’t matter that skin tone you are help us when we need it, not make like life worse Talk to us don’t let your bullets talk first God didn’t make you no better than me Your sin ain’t no better than my sin Your skin ain’t no better than my skin We are equal You bleed, I bleed too You eat shit, I eat too You got a family waiting for you when you get home Nigga, me too you having a bad day, yeah me too I’m having a bad day. I don’t get to walk around and shoot people put the “C” in front of the word “op” you find out who’s your biggest threat

My House on Conkling Street

Jahda Owens | 10th Grade | Bard Early College High School

I remember the extravagant party house on Conkling street. The house where the happiness of my childhood took root and grew the basic personality of what I have become. The person I am today will be forever etched on the chalk drawings that decorated the crooked stones of the stairs. The front lawn was the living room, as we shared it with the bums and hookers that spoke in tongues. They would dance among the smoggy stars of the night, exhaling the last bit of breath they had before the silver bullets put them to sleep forever. Past the dancers and colorful smoke, past the shoe shaped holes that littered our front door, laid the contents of a withered mind. Contorted to think the venomous bite of whiskey was the only thing that mattered. Beaten down by the claws of the fluffy rabbit in the fish tank. A name I wish not to speak, a past life I don’t live anymore. The views of a child differ from a teenager, and how I miss those sightless days of bliss. During the moon, the children ran up the long stairs to their heaven. Running past the freak show of rejected toys, the metal infused worlds of cookies, and long faced, selfish little demons appeared the Room. This Room was different from the rest that settled within the house. The Room had walls of dried blood, held laughter of a Siren’s song, and even taught me the importance of a wand when in a battle with another wizard. The Room was the place I spent most of my childhood at night. With my gems of dust glued to the ever-changing screen of magic, my nights were joyful. Now, let’s backtrack. Down the stairs and flinging open the haunted door, led the basement. Taking out the ghosts and ghouls. The foul smelling floor was my coffin. I would often stay down here, as it was also my room, and spend hours disappearing into the pages of a book. One by one, the books would fall from my hands and in a tearful blink, I was anew. Brought up from mist, shifted into flesh and bone, the person I was no longer existed. I took on the face of someone else.

My House on Clinton Street

Emani Owens | 8th Grade | Commodore John Rodgers

My previous house was like the arctic with the air constantly on. The stairless house me and my uncle lived in alone. So silent you could hear the children who played outside until 11 o’clock. A yard shared with a neighbor. No backyard. Fractured screen door. No railing leading up to the chipped blue door to get my head stuck in. I will always love the little welcome mat that greeted me home each day. A tiny forest out front under the windowsill. Smudged white carpet throughout the two bedroomed place. When you look out the door you could see the sun setting over the park. The house in which I got my first tiny companion. The place where I spent my first night alone in a room with no sister’s. In this house I learned to be independent. In this hollow house of mine I’ve felt my loneliest. I can remember how awful it felt to be alone with no one home but me. I also remember the first day we moved in and I took a nap on my new bedroom floor and I remember the last day I walked out of my house on Clinton Street and how it felt to leave that part of my life behind.

My Tribes

Ana Aguilar-Chagala | 8th Grade | Commodore John Rodgers

I’m from the group of people that are called illegals because we weren’t born in the U.S And the group of being called too open-minded because our ideas are way out of their league And the group of crying your eyes out when you lose a soccer game. And the group of wanting to be different And the group of wanting to fit in with the rest. And the group of not having a peaceful sleep because you start to realize how much you treat people like shit. And the group of loving the holidays because I get to eat pozole y tamales and have a warm cup of ponche. And the group of not having too much confidence. And the group of being too boastful. And the group of wanting to be pretty. And the group of feeling self-centered. And the group of getting happy because your mom wants your to dad to be part of something. And the group of not wanting to remember the people that left you when they said they never would. And the group of loving the people that are always there for you. And the group of wanting to have everything perfect. And the group of hating that things that are too perfect. And the group of that want to be bad. And the group of always being good. And the group of being there for everyone. And the group of having so many thoughts that you can’t share And I’m from the tribe of being a proud Mexican.

World Trade Center

Kristiana Smith | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

My Tribes

Ajuan McDaniel | 8th Grade | Commodore John Rodgers

I realized that, sure, I was a African American. I belonged to that tribe. But I also belonged to the tribe of American welfarist. And to the tribe of lacrosse players. And to the tribe of chubby wubbies. And the tribe of poverty. And the tribe of Democrats. And the tribe of Baltimoreans. And the tribe of sensitivity. And the tribe of low self-esteem. And the tribe of high values. And the tribe of peer-pressured. And the tribe of imprisoned fathers. And the tribe of Section 8. And the tribe of fried-chicken lovers. And the tribe of forgiveness. And the tribe of long-hungry nights. And the tribe of abandoned grandpas. And the tribe of on stormy nights, my family has movie night. And the tribe of giving mommy a kiss goodnight every night. And the tribe of on Saturday, mommy’s in the kitchen cooking breakfast. And the tribe of on Sunday, grandma’s making dinner after church service. And the tribe of dreams, on top of dreams, on top of dreams.

City Senses, or 5 Senses

Kobi Brown | 8th Grade | The Midtown Academy

She had her eyes closed and a smile on her face. She was standing on the balcony with her head laying on her hands. She felt the powerful wind rushing through her curly hair. She felt the heat of the sun on her face. She heard cars and buses driving on the street and the trees ruffling from the wind. She opened her eyes to see billboards and beautiful buildings. She could smell the nature around her and taste the chocolate chip cookies she had earlier still on her tongue. She picked her head up, and left the balcony.

My House

Shantika Bhat | 8th Grade | Commodore John Rodgers

I’ll always remember this house, the house filled with 12 years of memories. This house is a very organic house, we have a garden instead of a front lawn and plants all over our porch. Dirty red bricks and windows so long that they look like they were stretching. when you walk inside my house you’ll first see a tsunami of shoes, all mixed up like a bag of party chips. The kitchen reeks of masala. It’s small and cluttered with a bunch of things, when you walk through the kitchen it feels like you are walking through a crowd of people. We have no living room because my dad just refers all of that space as his bedroom. Then we go downstairs where it looks like the color green just threw up all over, the walls, carpet and tiles. I have a love and hate relationship with the basement, it’s like the arctic, where my brother and I have our rooms. Back then I would think downstairs was hell because I used to have the worst nightmares here. The top floor was changing like the seasons, my father would always reconstruct the upstairs for his liking. It was off limits. This house has its ups and downs like a roller coaster, but this roller coaster isn’t one I would get off of.

My Tribes

Shantika Bhat | 8th Grade | Commodore John Rodgers

I belong to the second generation, and to the kids stuck between two walls, and to the kids who are called coconuts. I belong to the crazy fangirls that are in every fandom, and to the kpoppers who want to be something they’re not, and to the people that get sucked into the black holes of lyrics. I belong to the crazy nerds that always want to be right, and to the teenagers whose life mottos are young forever, and to the people who always dream big, but end up with false hope. I belong to the people who eat white, brown and, red sticky rice, and to the weirdos that don’t eat meat, and to the people who consume more spices than we want to. I belong to all the people who make mistakes, and to the two-faced kids with happiness on one side and depressed on the other, and to the oldest sibling that struggles a lot. I belong to the group of people who are not perfect.

The Unofficial and Unwritten Rules for Living in Baltimore Kahree Roberts | 8th Grade | Commodore John Rogers

If you live in Baltimore, then you could get killed Being out to early, then you could get killed Staying out too late, then you could get killed Out on the corner, then you could get killed Snitch on your friend, then you could get killed Carry a gun, then you could get killed Disrespect a police officer, then you could get killed Being black and young, then you could get killed Going to the store late at night getting some ice cold Arizona and some Skittles, then you could get killed Out at Mondawmin getting some fresh new Air Jordans, then you could get killed.

My City

Marian Tibrey | 7th Grade | The Midtown Academy

I walk through my city Baltimore City My poor, poor city My city with hopelessness, My city with happiness but often brings sorrow The dark knights being destroyed by the white knights with badges without them having a reason “My city needs help, God,” I cry out but I never know if he’s listening So many people I see walking in the streets Feeling like they aren’t in this world, But they are And once they take that wrong kind of medicine They can’t go back It makes me sad My poor, poor city I will grow and make a difference I promise I will help people make sure they don’t make wrong choices I will help them Oh, my city My poor, poor city

Oh Baltimore

Jasmine Brooks | 9th Grade | Baltimore Leadership School for Young Women

Oh Baltimore, can’t you see Time passes, Things changing, drugs selling, people killing, lives been taken even by the people we’re supposed to honor and respect It’s harder and harder Everyday trying to stay alive traveling place to place without cops on your case Everyday Since the Freddie Grey case When I leave The house I try and try to be extra safe Every corner you turn you see drugs being sold or cops rolling down the street My city full of failed dreams young brothers dying He ain’t made it out of his teens 5 o’clock on the news I saw it on the screen The drugs, the killings, I witnessed Everything At a young age That’s why I’m in a rage 40

The clouds dancing around while blacks are crying down I always see people being let down

Pennsylvania Avenue

Rashad Holloway, Jr. | 8th Grade | Tunbridge Public Charter School

Down in the heart Of my stone cold city Lies Pennsylvania Avenue One of the most talked about places In this city. What I call home Baltimore, Maryland Why, you may ask Why do so many focus on this little area? Why! Did the National Guard show up armed And ready? We ask these questions. Why! Why! Why! One answer…the riots On a warm day in April 2015 Freddie Gray was killed while in police custody The people of my city were mad all the way from P.A. Avenue to Mondawmin. The CVS…gone…brick to ash in a snap The Credit Union…robbed…a brick through the window and nobody cared The cops…in their riot gear…ready To push back any harmful beings. A week later the National Guard is gone The city is quiet P.A. Avenue feels like it’s been left in ruin. Another week passes, the street has been revived. There’s a new feeling this week 42

Since the street had survived You may ask what else has survived For it was hope that survived Hope that’s in your spirit, body, and mind Hope is what drives us Hope is what keeps us going Hope… Pennsylvania Avenue needs hope once again The people that run this joint aren’t gonna give— It starts with us. With you and me Us young adults It’s time for us to take a stand In your Baltimore, In my Baltimore, In our Baltimore.

Bullets Don’t Have Names on Them

Zaire Avery | 8th Grade | Baltimore Leadership School for Young Women

Bullets don’t have names on them But all do the same thing All inflict pain All take man to grave From king to slave, Once a man of all names A world of black against white, But some mixed to make gray It’s a jungle where I come from Black men hear the siren, Like a dog reacting to a dog whistle They cover their ears and run A roar from deep inside A lion’s mane is its only pride They shaved our manes, they take our pride And the people hide their faces, and they hide their eyes It’s hard to live with a monkey on your back Trying to shake the reality of the killing, shooting, or crack Once a land of the free Once a home of the brave But people leave this land every day, But not in natural ways Gotta look over your shoulder because bullets don’t have names But all do the same thing, All take man to grave

Daybreak in Baltimore

Amaya Burke | 7th Grade | The Midtown Academy Reprinted from CHARM Vol. III

When I get to be a storyteller I’m gonna tell about daybreak in Baltimore I’m gonna tell about the hustle and bustle of this huge city of mine People are gonna know where I came from I’m gonna tell people about the colorful murals in the city and how they can bring a community together like a magnet The sound of dirt bikes on the rough city streets The yelling and screaming of the little kids playing in the streets The salty smell of the harbors dirty waters The drug dealer on every corner looking through the car window as we drive by I’m gonna tell people about the addicts waiting for their deals The sounds of gunshots noticing a new victim to gun violence or the newest Freddie Gray The sound of police cars and helicopters on the streets and overhead The sites of vacant house and buildings waiting to be knocked down When I’m done telling my story, I’m gonna put a happy ending in this sad story of mine There will be more sunny days and less rainy days when I’m done The sunny days will spread like wildfire from east to west and north to south When I get to be a storyteller, I’m gonna tell people about Daybreak in Baltimore

Student Editorial Board Morgan Hines is a 7th grader at The Midtown Academy. She loves being able to walk to restaurants (read: Chipotle) in Baltimore. Kobi Brown is an 8th grader at The Midtown Academy. Her favorite thing about Baltimore is exploring city’s festivals, like Artscape. Kayla Drummond is a 7th grader at The Midtown Academy. She loves the small feel of Baltimore, and how you see people all over town. And, of course, the crabs. Jasmine Scott is an 8th grader at Commodore John Rodgers. She loves carrying her guitar case all over Baltimore and busking for money. Kim Cardona is an 8th grader at Commodore John Rodgers. She loves exploding into Spanish when she gets really excited. Shantika Bhat is an 8th grader at Commodore John Rodgers. She loves striking a pose for and fangirling out with fellow K-Pop nerds. Jasmine Brooks is a 9th grader at Baltimore Leadership School for Young Women. She loves the community -- the art, music, food, etc. Kristiana Smith is an 8th grader at Tunbridge who loves Baltimore for its unique color and diversity. Joseph Tyler is an 8th grader at Tunbridge who loves Baltimore because of how humble its inhabitants are. Rashad Holloway is an 8th grader at Tunbridge who loves Baltimore because it inspires his artistic side.

Teacher Editorial Board Mike Rennard is a 100th grader at Ball So Hard University. He loves running into people he knows all over the city. Michael Hartwell is a 14th grader at The Paradox Charter School. He loves how this scrappy city continually surprises him. Whitney Birenbaum is a 5th grader at The Slippery School for Hurricanes and Marker Tops. She loves getting biscuits at the Sunday morning farmer’s market under 83. Dana Collins is a 6th grader at Old Mama University. She loves seeing new people find a home in the city where she grew up! Sarah Casamassima is a 2nd grader at Commodore John Rodgers. She loves Baltimore because of its vibrant art scene.

Acknowledgements The cover art was a collaborative effort by students from the four schools that lead CHARM’s student editorial board. The art featured before the Table of Contents and on the back cover is and will always be Emperor Tamarin by the artist, the myth, the legend: Ben Swimmer of the Baltimore Montessori Public Charter School. Over the course of four years now, we’ve received hundreds of submissions from students from all over Baltimore (and beyond). We are always humbled and flabbergasted by the enormous talent we see in our city, and we are grateful to have the honor to publish your work. Thanks to Caroline Lewis for leading the graphic design process and for sharing her years of experience, without which we would be rudderless and adrift in a sea of sad technical confusion. Thanks as always to Rob from Work Printing and Graphics for his continued support of student voices. Great writers deserve a great publication, and, Rob, you always provide that for us. To everybody who has donated time, talent, or money along the way in helping shape CHARM into the burgeoning literary giant it is: we love you. To The Mountain Goats, whose music is most excellent, many thanks. To the lost and lonely weebs of the world, your senpai will notice you one day. To the person who read these acknowledgements to the very end, your dedication is peerless and inspiring.

About CHARM CHARM is designed to provide talented young writers and artists with an authentic audience for their work. It is driven entirely by the interests and perspectives of its student editors and teachers. We are actively seeking a well-funded, corrupt shadow government seeking to fund a youth-led literary magazine. If you have any knowledge of such a government, please e-mail us. If you’re interested in learning more about supporting CHARM or getting your own work published, please contact us using this e-mail address: charmlitmag@gmail.com. Or look for us on various social media platforms here: @charmlitmag.

A l i t e ra r y a n d a r t s m a g a z i n e b y B a l t i m o r e s t u d e n t s. SPRING 2017 It’s where I Want To Be But why Oh why Does the place I call home Crumble so?