Be Black History


In school, there was no other month I looked forward to more than February. Finally, I get a chance to learn about my history. The people that paved the way and the ones that gave with their lives. Each story seemed to give me life no matter how many times i heard them. Why, because each one brought me closer to myself. For what is a man without his history? African-Americans only have 28 days a year for it to be nationally recognized. However, it has occurred to me over the past few years that I may very well be cementing myself in Black History. More importantly, I wasn’t the only one. Also, I believe you can join us.

If you look at African-America’s most notable figures, nobody had anything more than anybody else. Nobody had special powers or supernatural gifts. They came from an assortment of everyday backgrounds much like you or I and if things were equal, we may never have known about them. Yet slavery was a precursor to the road our people had to travel in this new country. Bound together by shackles, worked and bred like beasts, the road to freedom and equality would have to first be paid for with blood and sacrifice. Those ancestors who rose to pay that toll endured the worst. In the years after, more and more of our ancestors sought our rise in every avenue possible. Education, Business, the Arts, and Civil Rights. Our ancestors in these areas saw a need and addressed it. There were needs in our government as well and those before us addressed those too. Even though the color of their skin minimized their voice at the time, their words proved prophetic as our country still struggles with racism to this very day.

It is this very day that concerns us. It’s this very day that I want to bring to your attention. Today, is our day. There is still a need for those of us to take a step up. We have come a long way but we are not there yet. We are still being beaten and murdered by police. There is still economic and systematic Racism plaguing our community. There is a call for change that has remained constant in all aspects of African-American life in America. All that is needed is for you to answer the call where you are, in your profession, or craft. Our history is riding on the number of African-American men and women who willing to be the very best at what our culture needs right now. I am committed to making sure that my body of work adds to our culture and brings our people together. It is my goal that my work inspires the next generation of writers. My place in Black history is now. Will you join me?

Kelly Greene

The Rogue Negrq

Love Is


Love is a strong word. Probably the strongest of words. Don’t believe me, ask John the Baptist. A king loved his wife so much that she asked for poor John’s head and the king did not hesitate to provide her with it. YIKES! Marc Anthony and Cleopatra so loved each other that they allowed their countries to go to war with each other before killing themselves. Double YIKES! On the other hand, God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son for the forgiveness of sins. The greatest example of love of all time. Life however, has given me some unique perspectives. Today, I am going to share some of those with you.

Love is all-inclusive. Nothing and No One is immune. Everything is subject to the effects of love. Even the way you brush your teeth is subject to change upon the way you feel about the person you just spent 3 hours sharing a movie with. Your job gets easier the closer it gets to quitting time cause you are a little closer to that person of great interest! You jump on the freeway rushing to get to that person only get the attention of your local police. Love got you a ticket.

Love is absolutely blind. Ray Charles blind! If you put your love in the surface of a person, it will leave you there. What you see is the outside and love has nothing to do with that. Love takes time to create. No such thing as ”Love at first sight”. Everything you see can be replaced. True love is irreplaceable.

Love is whatever you put into it. Put nothing into it, get nothing out. Put everything into it and the possibilities are endless. Love is the only thing in life where return on investment is immediate and bountiful. There is a possibility where you can lose a lot when love is misplaced. Don’t worry, Whatever you lose, Love will reimburse you 100% with experience!

Love is above all amazing! Especially if you’re married. You’ve moved from relationship to relationship searching for what you have now. You took the vows that means love has firmly established itself in your life in the form of your mate. BE WARNED!!!! Love will test you often at this point. Why? Cause love is constant work. Some folks need reminding of the commitment love requires. If they are not up to it and the love is no longer binding, don’t worry.

Love is out there somewhere waiting for you!

I am living proof. At a time when the most painful lesson of love left me with doubts and without money, Love showed up and gave me every reason to believe in it again. I needed to learn one last lesson. Love is… Unpredictable!

For Dana

Kelly Greene

The Rouge 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 of 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 you 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 as 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

Black American Horror Movie

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

Its Cold In These Streets


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 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

An Urban Fairy Tale 2: The Shaman’s Tale


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