I stayed gone too long. Too far into disbelief in our new President. Too deep into the changes that were happening in my life. Too consumed with the evolution of my surroundings. However, I was learning, becoming that which my art calls me to be.

Sit down, gather round, and let me unravel my pedigree.

Let me serve Wisdom and Philosophy with all Honesty. Let’s enrich our minds and fill our souls. Somewhere in our rational minds we will find the solution to the madness that causes sadness. Forward thinking words and thoughts to help stop our community from sinking. Let these pages find willing eyes that help uplift my people’s pride.

The Godfather of Soul has passed and the Queen of Soul just recently. The mantle of Soul tumbling through the universe looking for its people to reclaim it. We have to be Superbad  and demand R.E.S.P.E.C.T.  WE got SOUL!!! And Here is where I write it. Welcome to Soulful Pages!


— Kelly Greene the Rogue Negro


Dear MI State Rep Johnson,

I have thought long and careful about the words I will unravel today as the reason behind them is far from settled.

I was there the day you were sworn in and witnessed you take an oath to serve the district that elected you with honor, dignity, and pride. Today i have very and every reason to hold you in contempt of that oath. I fully understand that my craft as a writer comes with many pitfalls and obstacles, but none should come at the hands of those elected to protect my rights to do so!

The reason is the letter you sent out to your Precinct Delegates on January 18, 2019 was not of your own work or that of your staff writer, but mine! You assigned your then Community Liaison, Ms. Henrietta Ivey to coordinate your Precinct Delegate Appreciation Day on March 1, 2019 She enlisted my assistance in writing the memo. I agreed and was informed that it was turned down. Then to my surprise, Ms Ivey shows me a copy of the memo, slightly altered and complete with official State letterhead none the less. The memo itself was only a first draft itself and I had not yet signed off on. To further confound the issue, Ms. Ivey informed me that she was fired after multiple inquiries of the letter’s origin. Must something so simple as a superbly written letter be enough for you to compromise your principles? How can you stand up for social justice when you gladly engage in selfish injustice? How can we be certain more illustrious prizes haven’t swayed your principles already?

“I am an artist, and I am sensitive about my Shit!” – Erykah Badu

Yes, I called you out publicly. As a voter grieved by your actions, I have a right to! I never tried to “Embezzle” you as told everyone I tried to do on your “Stand Up with Cynthia” Show (I still have the clip. I can play it for you anytime you like). Never once did I threaten you claimed on the false police report you filed. Why should an innocent man have to go to a police station, and give a statement, when his only crime is holding an elected official accountable for their deeds in his community? The only thing I threatened you with is the Truth and if the truth is not your ally in service to your district, then you must resign!

I must ask…. Is this an example of your attitude towards writers and artist on the rise in your district? Are you truly this apathetic to Detroit Artists? The Detroit Artist is one of the most hardworking artist in the world. Many thought we would die when Motown left. Many left after most lost their day jobs in 2008. Those that stayed gutted it out to add to the flavor that is Detroit culture today. Most of us, if not all of us, would rather be excellent and prosperous in our crafts instead of laboring at 9 to 5. We make huge sacrifices for each opportunity we get so when you plagiarize one of us, you steal from us. I say us because we elect people to make sure the rights to our work are protected. You have shown that you have no such interest in protecting the rights of Detroit Artists.

I want to take this time to acknowledge Ms. Henrietta Ivey. In her role as Community Liaison, she exemplified what it means to truly serve the community. She reached into the community for talent, gave it an opportunity, and defended it. It is her dedication to service and fighting for the rights of others that lead to her being chosen to speak at the Democratic National Convention. I find it reprehensible that you continue to defame her character for choosing to call my attention to your plagiarism and not side with your outrageous conduct. I can say with certainty, Henrietta Ivey was the only one who kept her oath that day at the SEIU.

It saddens me that in one of the most chaotic times in our history where competent and trustworthy leadership is needed, you have displayed neither. If Selfies with important people and your title mean more to you than the work you do for the people, then you must quit.

There will be no further contact between us unless it is for legal or administrative purposes should your actions in this situation warrant an investigation.

In Peace and Power,

Kelly Greene

Any agency or press interested in my claims including all related materials may send a request by email to

The Black man was kidnapped and brought to a foreign land to be changed into nothing more than a farmer’s beast. The Black man fought chains and nooses to make sure his children got loose. However 400yrs of uphill fighting and fussing, dying and discussion took its toll on the Black man. The once mighty King crushed under economic and social oppression… Breaks. You see him on the news almost everyday. His Queen once by his side, has now died. His kids that once ran to his face now run from his demonic space. The police come to get him and if he lives, There is peace in America because they have recaptured another beast.

Black Male Mental illness is real. I have been doing a lot of reading not only to help myself through this journey of Divorce and to help other dudes I may run into. I Recently participated in The Detroit Chapter of National Association of Black Journalists Black Male Media event and Black Male Mental illness was the topic. That Saturday inspired me to help further make a difference. In an upcoming blog, I am going to tell you about a book sent to me by a childhood friend, meeting the author at the event, and how this book can really help us just get the frustration out. This book is what we need right now!

I think it’s time the Black American Horror story has a different ending. Where the Black man keeps his head and the Black family lives. It’s time we have real conversations before things get real.

Kelly Greene

The Rogue Negro


Lady… I come thirsty

The world is hungry

The Beast sees us as his feast

And my fight has left me dry

Kiss me on my chest

Feel me on your breasts

Lubricate my thoughts broaden my mind

Oil my blade as we lay intertwined

I’ll be your engine if you be the fuel

I am overheating from this Worlds beating

Be…. My…. Cool

Allow me Lady to….


Kelly Greene

The Rogue Negro


I have always had hiding spots all over Detroit. Why? Because sometime I need a space where no one knows me just to unwind. An out of the way, hole in the wall bar usually works perfectly.  These days, a conversation I had at one such hideaway comes to mind.

I never got his name and I don’t remember if I gave him mine or not. He was an old school dude somewhere around my Dad’s age. His walk was aided by a cane but maintained a style about himself that made him a man of distinction. He knew everyone in the bar from the owner on down. I tried to avoid him as much as possible. Getting to know him meant the end of my obscurity. I later learned that I was wrong. In fact, his words would carry a message impossible to forget.

My beer was near empty and my time there nearly at an end, it was then he bought me another. He had my thanks but what he wanted was my attention. After some small talk, he rolled up his sleeve and pointed to the scars on his arm. He began to tell his story. He talked about the water hoses, the protests, and the police dog that bit him. He said the scars looked bad because his “Ole Lady” patched him up and she wasn’t no damn nurse!

A burst of laughter between us broke the tension of his tale but he resumed without missing a step.  He went on to say that he was proud of all of it because our future was hanging in the balance. He took a sip of his drink looked at me with all seriousness. He said ” There are some things Black folks do that make me regret it.”. I was blown away but I kept my shock down to absorb the lesson he was about to put down.

He went on to elaborate on all the things he loves  African Americans have accomplished. Those things were the reason he got out and endured the riot. He went on to say its the things black folks do to each other that give him resentment. He said he wanted Black folks to be free to pursue whatever their heart’s desire without prejudice. What pissed him off was the way Black folks were prejudice against each other. He said “I wish I had that dog that bit my ass to sic on those fools! Those people don’t deserve my sacrifices.”. He had had another sip. I kept silent. His wisdom writing itself in my thoughts. He pointed to the scars on his arm and said “Be whatever you want to be, I paid for it. but be good to your own even if you don’t agree with them.”.  He patted me on the back and paid my tab.

I haven’t seen him in years and that hole in the wall is now closed. However his words stuck in my mind like King Arthur’s sword stuck in stone. So when I see this new black “Woke” moment attack other Black folks, his words resurface. When I see Black folks attacking Black LGBT folks, I wonder do they realize that they are only recreating the same oppression White folks impressed upon us.  Ignorance creates ignorance and within our community, it’s rampant! I wish that guy was around to give African Americans the talk he gave me. The question being Would you listen? If you wouldn’t, then maybe the scars on his arms were truly in vain.


Kelly Greene

The Rogue Negro


Inspired by the song “Everlasting Love” By Innosphere

A mighty figure leaps from tree top to tree top passing several in between. This is the preferred method of travel for the Shaman. His perfectly melinated skin tone nearly blended him into the night. The full moon illuminated his way home and kissed his bald head. Slightly taller and larger than any mortal however his movements were effortless. The Shaman lived and breathed ancient magic entrusted to him by the Ancestors. His status among the Immortals, unquestioned.

With another effortless leap, the Shaman plunged into a massive treetop that concealed his home. He landed on the balcony of his tree house without a sound. He bowed his head and closed his eyes while a familiar scent filled his nostrils. He could feel her soul nearby. a smile began to grow beneath his nose. The Shaman began to shed his travel garments and make his way through his treetop dwelling. He poured himself a drink of ancient nectar. before entering his bed chamber where another pleasure awaited.

The source of that familiar scent. An intruder lay bare in his chambers. The Shaman retrieved his pipe and filled it with ceremonial herb. He drew smoke as he admired the beauty that lay before him. The moon shined on the large curves of her body. Her hips and buttocks larger than most mortal women but perfectly pleasing to the Shaman. She turned from her slumber to behold her admirer. “What do you see my Sorcerer?” she asked while ever so slightly covering her breasts. “I see beauty as defined by the ancestors” he replied without hesitation. She smiled. He gave her the most gentle kiss on her forehead.

The Shaman sensed something in her. He has kissed her and felt her warmth before but there was a concern in her soul this evening. The Shaman sat back in his seat. “Speak, young one and I will bring peace.” he proclaimed with a smile. The maiden turned over on her back. Her large breasts revealed themselves as they rose and lowered. A deep breath was definitely needed for what she was to say next.

The Shaman moved from his seat to sit next next to her in his bed. He held her hand as she began to speak.

‘ I must leave you… Soon. Every time I leave this place, a piece of my heart stays. Now I go home and mourn because I now know I have left my entire heart here. I can find your home without thinking. The trees lower branches for me to walk up and this place cradles me as a newborn baby. My baby days are past and I don’t know if you ever were. I will grow old while you still remain the immortal you are. My love will die while your’s will go on everlasting without me. Give me my heart back so I can live my days in temporary love with my kin.”

The Shaman rose to his feet and took her hand. leading her to his balcony. Once out under the moonlight, he turned to face her. Tears down his cheeks shocked her. What he said next shocked her even more.

” I have lived several lifetimes yet you cause it to stop in this moment. Here, I must choose between you and my immortality. My heart cannot bear to be without one or the other. No mortal has ever provided me a problem I didn’t have an answer or a spell for. I love you and I would cast the greatest spell if it would grant you peace but there is no spell. Only one solution”

The Shaman wiped the tears from her eyes. He held her close. “There is a solution. If I made love to you, You would would be immortal as I. Creating a new Immortal is forbidden. However, your love is worth the forbidden” The mortal woman who has now monumentally captured the heart of an immortal began to smile beneath tears of emotion. The Shaman’s eyes began to glow a soft purple. He was committing all that he has and all that he will ever be to her immortality.

Forbidden be damned

He kisses her lips… passionately. He will never taste mortal lips again. His right hand which has cast some of the most powerful and ancient spells, now slowly makes its way between her breasts. It doesn’t stop to admire the scenery but continues its soft decent. However, it stops briefly to stir its finger in her wetness. This causes her to bury her head into his chest and moan. His hand continues its quest beneath her where an open palm slowly raises her. The Shaman’s lips take notice of the fullness of her breasts before following the path his hand previously went. He was sure to take his time, nothing rushed , savoring the taste of her skin.

Before long, The young lady was hoisted in the air, bare before the moonlight. The Shaman’s head finding rest between her thighs. Her moans and cries of passion filled the forest. The Shaman’s tongue eager for her moisture did wondrous movements to accomplish its goal. Her juices flowed and ran slowly down the corners of his mouth. Young nectar for his ancient soul. She screams!! Her soul has followed her own juices into the Shaman’s mouth. Her mortal body quivered in the hand of this immortal. Eyes white with human pupils missing. Her soul met the ancestors while she drifted in the Shaman’s body.

The Shaman began to drag his left hand glowing full of his essence across her body. Blessing it with the fullness of his power. He then inserted his gift into her wetness. Her body filled with life! The Shaman began grind between her legs. Her body began to twist with his voodoo stroke. Her fingernails dug into his immortal skin. Her body grew. Her eyes filled with vibrant purple energy. The Shaman’s strokes became stronger, deeper, his magic filling her core. The Shaman leaned his head back in Ecstasy. His outstretched hands grabbed tree trunks to steady him and hold him in reality. His loud moans turned to near roar as the last of all that he is poured into her. They hovered slightly above the Shaman’s tree house lair. Still joined together, their Chakras aligned and their combined energies now hummed as one. She was now immortal. Her title… Queen Sorceress to the Shaman.

Their love grew with their powers over the months that followed. They enjoyed the bliss of immortal magic. They lay bare cradled in each others arms by their favorite lake. One such day, there was an explosion in the middle of the lake! The lovers lept to their feet! Both of their eyes red and filled with the intent to protect their mate! Their hands charged and ready for combat. A large figure emerged from the lake. It began to walk towards the couple. The Shaman powered down in shock. The figure was an image of the Afro-Titan himself!

The Titan Spoke:


To Be Continued………

Kelly Greene

The Rogue Negro


Have you ever met a writer? Do you know any personally? If so, good! If not, even better! They say only a writer can totally understand another writer, which is true.  However, I am going to do you a favor. I am going to give you a gift of insight into a Writer’s heart.

On the outside, Writers are hard to spot. We like all the things most other people like. You might spot us with a notepad in tow. You never know what ideas might hit us during our travels.  A building, a fountain, or an ordinary lamp can turn into a 500 page novel. We are very observant. Details are a must! We have to use words to tell a story in full color. It is quite possible that a writer saw you in your favorite shirt one day and your shirt was later worn by the love interest in the story. The way you wore that shirt was true inspiration.

Inspiration is key for us Writers. Don’t believe me? Let one of us fall in love with you. The unexpected love notes left on your car or attached to a beautiful gift blow you away. Sentences formed with the technique of a craftsman laced with their feelings for you give you a literary embrace. Our provocative paragraphs seduce you before and after each date. You will become our muse. Our latest projects will reek of the happiness you have brought us. When a Writer is in love, it shows. For every Writer, passion is everything.

A Writer’s heart is pure passion. It guides us. It motivates us. It is common for a Writer to lose sense of time while writing. There is no greater joy for a Writer than when the passion in their hearts ignites the gift in their hands. From there is where you, the reader benefits. For we give the fruits of our passion to you. That is what is in the Heart of a Writer

Kelly Greene

The Rogue Negro


Inspired by the song “She” by Christian Scott

The Afro-Titan returned to his mountain after a long, hard fought war. He was victorious yet his Kingdom payed a heavy price. He proceeded to the throne room with his Ceremonial Herb to smoke and Ancient Nectar to drink. He threw himself into his throne and yelled “QUEEN COME!”. His mighty voice echoed but there was no answer. This time he stood up, snatched off his battle worn shirt and yelled “QUEEN COME!”.

Still no answer. Only his ruined Kingdom off in the distance. The vision wounded his once proud heart. He turned to the Queen’s throne. It too was in ruin. This shattered that heart. He stared at the shambled throne and his eyes glowed with power. Afro-Titan took a drink from the Ancient Nectar and poured the rest on the Queen’s throne. The Titan took 2 puffs from the Ceremonial Herb. He then lightly blew on the lit end until a bright glow and threw it on the throne soaked in Ancient Nectar. A bright orange blaze arose from the throne. Afro-Titan clapped his hands and the orange flame became electric blue! Energy consumed his hands.

This was it! Afro-Titan Summoned all his Soul Power and slammed his right hand on the blue flaming throne! The Impact broke the very pedestal the throne sat on! The shock wave was felt throughout the land! He then plunged his mighty hands into the destruction he caused and began supernatural work! The power and speed in which his hands worked surpassed anything he had ever done. Blood began to poor from worn hands which he only used to smooth out imperfections in his task. Some he poured into base. The passage of time meant nothing to him.

Afro-Titan now stood in front of a brand new throne. It bore the etchings of his life and the desires of his heart. He was pleased! However, There was a problem! Afro-Titan became weak. He had no breath to summon a Queen. His legs became weak and he had to catch himself on the new throne. He was spent. The tenacious Titan lost too much blood from his hands. Sweat poured from his body as morning dew. The key to his immortality, his Soul Power flickered in his body. Afro-Titan became weaker. He collapsed in front of the most elegant and powerful throne ever built for a Queen. Our Titan was near joining the ancestors. His life for this throne worthy of a Titan’s Queen was an acceptable sacrifice. Before Afro-Titan closed his eyes for what he thought would be the final time, he beheld an unfamiliar figure.

Still very weak but startled. He opened his eyes wide. Is this death coming to claim him? The Titan wondered. The figure came closer and revealed itself to be a woman. Dark of hue as the Titan. Long hair in locs with vibrant color tips. She was beauty incarnate and her body built by the gods. No mortal woman matched her. Afro-Titan’s soul once again began to slip further from from existence. The woman knelt down and cradled his head into her lap. She looked down at him with a smile and said “I know your name but I will never say it. It’s written on my heart.” She then removed her loose fitting top and exposed her breasts. Large and beautiful as the hills in his father’s homelands. She nudged the Titan’s head towards one of her breasts.

“Drink my Titan, regain your strength. I am your nourishment.” Her words obeyed and Afro-Titan began her nipple into his mouth and her rich, powerful milk began to fill his mouth. Almost instantly, he felt his body regaining itself. The woman then slid her other arm under the still weak Titan and carried him to his bed! No Woman could do this! This one woman.. Her form … Immortal. Her pedigree…. QUEEN!

She stood on the Balcony as the Titan recovered looking out over his kingdom. Afro-Titan rose slighty to behold the beauty on his balcony. She turned to him and approached the bed while untying a string which released the skirt she was wearing. Our Titan did not move. She crept halfway up his body to admire his legs. However her goal was between them. Caressing his penis, she felt his drive, ambition, his strength, his future. She straddled him and inserted those things into herself. She bit her lip, bowed her head, and began to slowly rock. His Soul Power has that fire her soul sought after. She allowed herself to enjoy it. His head slowly rocked back. Her power and will were at hand and he was consumed. Circular motions of her hips caused Afro-Titan to lose himself in her. Each sway of her hips molded the Titans soul. Sensing the throbbing in his soul, She knew it wouldn’t be long.

With her left hand, she dug her nails into his chest. With her right hand, she firmly grabbed to back of his head. Afro-Titan began to moan and curse as tremors of pleasure waved trough his body. The movement in her hips starts to take short unholy turns with a few wide ones to grind her magic into him. With a loud roar, Afro-Titan succumbs to the tremors in his body and his Soul Power erupts inside her. His power surge triggers one inside her and the Titan is baptized in her juices. He is reborn between her thighs. She slides her hands on either sides of his head and presses her forehead against his and kisses it. She then kisses his lips. From there she drags her nose across both of his cheeks and whispers. “You are whole again my Love.” He looks up at her. She smiles that intimate smile. No man knows what goes through a woman”s mind at this time. Men just enjoy the smile that could mean 1000 things. The Titan was no different. It was then, he pronounced her…. QUEEN!

Afro-Titan’s mind snapped back to his ravaged kingdom, His offering to his new Queen. He tried to sit up to address this with his new Queen. ” My Queen, Our Kingdom, I have…”. She placed a finger over his lips to prevent him from finishing his thought. She looked down at his chest then back into his eyes. “Your Kingdom is a result of you fighting alone.” The Queen said with a smirk. The Queen drew closet to The Titan’s face looking him right the eye and without blinking made this decree..”I am a Queen. I allow no Titan of mine to go to battle without me by his side!” Afro-Titan nodded and it became law.

The satisfied Queen cuddled to her Titan’s side in the bed. He enveloped her in his arms. His Queen protected high atop his mountain. ‘Sleep my Titan.” She whispers. “When we rise, we rebuild our Kingdom”. Afro-Titan closes his eyes

The End

Kelly Greene

The Rogue Negro