Soulful Pages

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

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:

“I ACKNOWLEDGE AND ADMIRE YOUR LOVE BUT YOU BOTH ARE JUDGED. COME TO THE MOUNTAIN.”

To Be Continued………

Kelly Greene

The Rogue Negro