A bad negro

Three brothas from another mother
Doin’ they thing
Young, handsome, and intelligent
And no one had strings.

These cats had ladies wailing
(If you know what I mean)
Blessed to handle business
Forged in fire, always clean.

Got jobs straight out of college
Working for the same firm
Crushing competition
Always ready to learn.

Promotions came like weekends
That’s how tight their game was
One hundred percent dedicated
To whatever their cause.

One day it came from up top
There would be some changes
In how the company did business
And other arrangements.

A merger had occurred
And everyone was uptight.
Their livelihoods were on the line
And budgets were tight.

But the three amigos
Wadn’t worried at all
However things shook out
They made a pact to stand tall.

They knew where one door closes
Another opens ahead,
So they took everything in stride
And kept the stress out their heads.

The new boss lit his fat cigar
And with his people in tow
Visited each department
To get a feel for how things go.

The underlings were scrambling
Hustling for their lives
Determined not to look like
Dead weight killing the hive.

The boss was quite amused
And pleased with what he observed.
His presence inspired industry
The fruit he deserved.

Now the brothas had a routine:
Meditation before movement.
Visualizing everything
Before beginning improvement.

It helped them steel their focus
And efficiently use their time.
The proof was in the pudding
No one could match their climb.

But the boss wasn’t familiar
With what looked like laziness
And interrupted one such session
Viewed as an insult to his business.

One brotha met him at the door
Shushed him and shooed him away
And closed the door, irritated
By the intrusion into their space.

Dumbfounded, the boss looked around
And before anyone could explain
The door opened, and the brothas emerged
Like they had popped a bottle of champagne.

The office was cowed by the boss’s red face
When he asked if they knew what was at stake.
The brothas, oblivious, replied
That they were taking a break.

The boss turned on his heels and left
Smoke coming out of his head
And had his assistant subpoena the brothas
On official letterhead.

Being summoned to the Lion’s den
Would make anyone else lose heart.
But the brothas went in, confident
They would not fall apart.

The boss spoke very softly
A gold pen tapping his mind.
On the table in front of him
Three contracts for them to sign.

In honor of the work they’d done
They’d be allowed to keep their positions
Provided they meet the demands
Of a new project he commissioned.

The three advanced to review the plans
And the knees of two of them buckled.
Outlined on paper was their demise
But the third brotha just kind of chuckled.

“Take it or leave it, it’s up to you.”
The boss said with a dismissive air.
The brotha that chuckled requested the pen
And signed like he didn’t care.

The other two signed when he gave them a look
And the boss leaned his chair back, amused.
“If you don’t meet the conditions as stated, you’re fired.
I don’t want you to be confused.”

The confident brotha just shrugged and said, “Bet.
You ain’t said nothing but a word.”
The boss chuckled back, in a dry kind of way
Considering their posturing absurd.

When they were out of the office, and the door shut behind them
One brotha nearly broke down and cried,
“How are we supposed to get this shit done?
It’s impossible! Professional suicide!”

But the strong brotha chided him, “Shake that shit off!
Ain’t nothing we can’t accomplish together!
In our blood is the spirit the brawn and the mind
Of the original creator!”

“So, come on my brothas, we’ve been here before
and still standing, a testament to our power.
Let’s pull it together and meet this challenge
The same way we do any other!”

The three locked their arms around each other’s shoulders
And joined their minds to focus on the business.
Like the sons of God they were, they made miracles happen
And when the boss arrived, he shouted, “What is this?!”

“How did you manage to pull this shit off?!”
He demanded, assured they would fail.
The confident brother looked him in the eye
And told him that they grew up in hell

Nothing that’s ever been thrown at them
Deterred them from success.
They’ve always had each other’s back
And that’s all they needed for any test.

The boss man looked them over
And asked their names, so he could know.
The strong one said, “That’s Shadrach, Meshach,
And they call me a bad negro.”

©02.19.2017 ebn