“TONI’S ROOM book signing/ reading and open mic August 24th!💓🎤🎶📚💿

You are cordially invited to my “Toni’s Room” book signing and open mic birthday party on August 24th in Philadelphia PA at the 4050 Gallery!

The gallery is located at 4050 Haverford Avenue.

The open mic list starts at 6:30 to 7 p.m.

The open mic will start at 8 after the Toni’s Room reading. I’m excited to have Sisters Laying Down Hands to accompany me and bring the vibe and the ancestors into the room.

This is presented by Music and Art for the Soul, a Carolee Production. I’m so excited to to share this moment and celebrate with my friends fans and all my loved ones. The cost at the door is just $5, we’ll have cake and beverages and lots of great music and fun. Books can be purchased in advance of the signing on Amazon or on my Toni Love site . Just let me know that you will pick it up at the signing.

💞

I will have another reading on September 15th at Pendle Hill in Wallingford PA from 2 to 4 p.m. at their amazing Sunday Coffee House. Stay tuned for more information.

Either way I hope you are well and that I get to see you soon!

Make today great.

#loveistheanswer 💞

August 11, 2019 0

Not One (New original poetry by Toni Love)

Mothers of Black Sons and all who support in solidarity are welcome to join us as we stand together United against racial injustice, police brutality and inner city violence. We need your collective voice, wisdom and support to effect change. Please come out Sunday, October 16th at 12noon. We will march from Broad and Cecil B Moore Avenue to 1401 JFK Boulevard, Philadelphia. In addition to being a poet, I am the mother of a young black male. I am honored to be on the program and will recite this piece as well as my poem “Born of Warriors” written after the #PhiladoCastille murder.

MOBS can be contacted via email at : millionmomsphilly@gmail.com. Please also donate as little or as much as you can to MOBS Go Fund Me which will help cover the cost of permits and travel to our state and US capitols. Gathering as one unit is an essential part of the healing process. I hope you come.

~Toni #loveistheanswer

Not One

Not mine, son
Not mine

Not my son
Not my brother, nephew, uncle or current lover
Not my neighbor cousin or future husband

Not mine, not hers
Not anybody’s
Son

I am not saying “no more”
I am saying “not one”

We with the millions of ancestors behind us
Forge a force you will feel into centuries

Your gated communities will not be safe
Your land will not be prosperous
Your wealth will not sustain you
Your privilege will not save you

We are millions today plus millions from centuries before us
We are far more than your eyes can see

We gather together
Seen and unseen
When mothers pray
The heavens come forth to listen

So rest assured and be forewarned
There will be a price for your descendants to pay
If you ever look at our sons in a disrespectful way

We, collectively are not playing with you today

No more
Not one
Not
One
Son

October 12, 2016 0

9-11 Emergency – Original Poetry

9-11 Emergency

This poem was written during a trip to New York City in 2009. As the taxi cab stopped in traffic I looked up and I was right in front of Engine 34. I felt the energy in the building and these words came to me…

Back in New York

and nothing is the same

I know it’s been more than ten years

I expected that a lot had changed

The taxi cab was shiny and new

No familiar ganja or curry scent lingering in the air

No arrogant driver to talk to

Either from fear of a bad review or the thick bulletproof shield

that assured there was no conversation to share

The streets were still dirty, the buildings still grey and stoic

Yet the soul of the City had changed and I almost couldn’t put my finger on it

Until I passed by Ladder 34

This is where the City lost its soul

All of the years I spent walking these streets riding in taxi cabs and liverys I had never passed this place

The building was so lifeless

The pain, the heartache washed the color from the red paint

The emotion felt just driving by in the cab almost made me faint

I wanted to stop the driver and run to the building to perform CPR

Jump-start the hearts and souls of the firefighters inside waiting for the next emergency

and praying to God that they are not called to another tower

And lose what’s left of the hope they cling to each and every hour

Sadness overwhelms me as I see the fighters from the past

running to get ready to save us from the blast

They never knew what hit us

why the towers were coming down

never thought twice about the danger that awaited them underground

Not knowing who was in danger

They didn’t hesitate to answer the call

All of our brave and dedicated servants showed up for us

I pray for the souls of them all

September 11, 2015 1

Frustrated – Original Poetry 12/6/05

I am so tired of living among a passion-less people

So exhausted, so full of excuses

of why they don’t have time to

or don’t have the energy to

Can’t fit the struggle into their schedule of Pilates classes,

after work affairs and the nine to five

Complaining about the lack of, the need for

and their people being so poor

Can’t wait to put down their fellow-man, their president and the unending war

What my brother, my sister are you fighting for?

Is it the last seat on the bus?

The most popular item at Toys R Us?

The raise that’s been denied you for years

or just fighting to hold back your tears because of the bonuses that were given to your peers?

What are you fighting for?

I wish I could go back and live among the passionate folks

before our community was numbed with pipes full of dope

and silenced behind bars where our men are afraid to pick up the soap

with women like Angela Davis who feared no one

And the Black Panther Party protected every young black son

No one sat around waiting for assistance

We fought for justice, excited by its resistance

Black play writes brought home Tonys

and didn’t settle for gospel-comedy baloney

What are we fighting for?

Our babies are dying in the street

and we’re afraid to stand up on our own two feet

Too afraid that they’ll keep on killing?

Hell, they shot Martin, Malcolm, Treyvon and Lincoln

We’re letting our children get abused

wasting our money on liquor and more concerned about the right pair of shoes.

What the hell are we fighting for?

It’s nice you donate to the poor

Cause you’re making millions off of them buying your CD while you’re turning them away from you door

Is there room in your mansion for ten more, senor?

Then why hire them as maids when you could teach them to do so much more

Tell me Mister Mogul – who are you fighting for?

Taking money from our community so you can walk hand in hand with the Barbie doll you purchased from the store

Tired of all the talk and no action

I remember the days sleeping on a cold concrete step, risking my Ivy League education for South Africa’s poor

An education that most can’t even afford to get anymore

So many poets talk of change and raising us up

But when are we gonna do more?

January 13, 2013 0