Visit My Deliberate
Homepage Damn It!
feelings, feelings,
and then you write
friend fiend and brother
wound wound and bother
talk is not
its in your hand and your movement
looking at veins again
is she activated
activating is
feelin
struggle and a,
has to save bird from cat
oh so little,
beeking
yellow chest and rapid heart
open windows
tell me
ideas ideas and then you write,
wigs and lipstick, vodka plastic
along a slope
do you remember, oh well,
I dont,
write me how to thrive
while your past repeat your traumas.
The Quilt and the Beggar 1/Woman in Tower
of Song
From Her point of View/
All lyrics. ©Tonje Høydahl Sørli
All lyrics ©Tonje Høydahl Sørli
BONO-member
/poems / texts:
The Healing Day, Bill Fay: It'll be O.K. On the healing day. No more goin' astray. On the healing day. Yea we'll find our way. On the healing day. To where the children play. On the healing day. When the tyrant is bound. And the tortured freed from his pain, and the lofty brought to the ground. And the lowly raised. Ain't so far away The healing day.
Truth Hurts
sorrow lost and sorrow won
did you get
what I`ve been plundering(ja jeg har altså plyndret på dette)* on:
I have
a blooming brain.
(song ref Sun has Gone, Broken Twin)
Carrier, Where did You Run>>>>>
>>
Objektiv
Skrevet/
---
In 2016 some claimed that
I imagined that I wrote.
Then my imaginary writing came
to grab my motherhood
by its tail.
Along with this, mockery
of people with traumas has
made me care less.
So I have lost my
passion for sharing lyrics.
Also I have put
my pseudonyms/alias to rest.
And decided that I shall not work without
formal meetings in the future.
(which mean I have).
Love for 2019,
take care.
Lyrics On This Site:
These days I publish only on this website. I got support from Kunstløftet in 2014 to do a comic-project on trauma-reactions, and will work on this as a theme (amongst others) in some of my projects a little longer. Right now the shortlyrics here on this site are written and published over several years. They cover the core of lives in the aftermath of trauma, which is a life too many live today. Though writing about dissociation, my writing is on post trauma, and not on schizophrenia. Why people mix those up I dont know. As an artist I have chosen to read and focus on Onno von der Hart, Kathy Steele, Suzette Boon and Ellert R. S. Nijenhuis thoughts on post-trauma-reactions Besides from this, my focus in lyrics has always been relations.
Please note I no longer have my Steve/Steven and/ Anne-a/-account (email- accounts under pseudonyms).
Although my lyrics sometimes were used, I dont often get to go to concerts (ref Eat for Free, Haley Bonar).
Though a direct tone- I dont write about anyone I have known or know on this site. And I have never intended to offend anyone with my lyrics. Most I write comes out of what I observe around me, or read about.
Do follow me on Instagram:
@tonjehoydahlsorli.
Tender Plants to Grow This Year
Im the
bid me
but I
I am
of
they make use of my
but then I
I never show
I never show
you know, I never show
Im little little
brittle
lights and movecontrol
waking up in fright
keeping out of sight
see their gardens growing
blooming, taking over
greens and yellows
flowerbuds and watery leaves
--- .---
I hid in your mothers
behind bushes
she telling me to leave
oh please
I begged,
let me have a face
but Im little little,
brittle,
lights and movecontrol
I never show
I never show
you know, I never show
Radiohead, Daydreaming, also backwards.
Susanne Sundfør: Delirious, Fade Away,
Undercover
.
Right Now! In favor! Songs I listen ( I have a passion for songlyrics, had it since Smashing Pumpkin`s Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness came) to:
And to set the tone: Michael Nau, Love Survive. AND I
I am sorry my website is down, mostly it turns purple, without any content at all..Ill try to fix it,
meanwhile you can find me working as a teacher for RELOVE these days, and making tapestries in green and pink. Read about my works in 8 kunstnere, and find Immersed in Another World with google.
Mas Ysa, Shame & Gun Lana Del Ray: Music to Watch Boys to
Lorde, Team Highasakite: My Name is Liar+++
The Slow Show, Dresden Daniel Kvammen! Luve! Ferrari
Alice Boman/ Jaakko Eino Kalevi, Be Mine
P J Harvey: The Ministry of Defence
The Czars, Drug
Explosions in the Sky: Your Hand in Mine
Coldplay: Up&Up
Jimi Tenor, Moonfolk, & Tame Impala, Let it Happen
John Maus, All Aboard/Skjønte du spøken!??
Leonard Cohen, You Want it Darker & Leaving the Table
Nils Bech: Glimpse of Hope
Father John Misty: Real Love Baby
Dot Hacker, Eye Opener
Smashing Pumpkins, Lily(My One and Only)
Bjørk: Yoga
Mas Ysa: Face
Cold Mailman: Petra Pan & Something You Do.
CocoRosie: Child Bride London Grammar, Metal & Dust
Kent, Den sista sången du får.
Tindersticks: Follow Me
Night Beds: Dear Jewell Arcade Fire: Put Your Money on Me Tindersticks Dear
Team Me, June, I Killed Sarah V..Lowell.
Bowie: Girl Loves Me
John Grant: Grey Tickles, Black Pressure
Squirrel Nut Zippers! Pallin with Al
Farao, Sparks Edith Piaf said it better
Apothek, Inheritance
Sia:Chandelier
Amason, Kelly & Yellow Moon Unge Ferrari: Balkong
Fleet Foxes, White Winter Hymnal
Lars Vaular: Dessverre
Sundfør: Undercover(Edit)
Rockettothesky: The Dead, Dead
Water
Lily Thing
Iris Viljanen, Ska vi fira
Bright Eyes, Lua
Cass Mccombs: Bum Bum Bum,
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To a Specialist, On Musicality
yu were so so wrong(x2)
yu were so so wrong(x2)
yu were so so wrong(x2)
lyrics without musicality
well, perhaps you should try to sing them
staccato
staccato
staccato
I bet you`d get them working then.
1 Bloom! & Jolly Future!
2. Pressure & Motherhood, this is theme in the piece Bloom! & Jolly Future!
Bob Dylan, >>>>The Times They are A-Changing. GO pop-lyrics!!. Society__>
All That We´ve Become
Losers Can Win(ref Starwalker)/
The Return
they say
with windows open
little is to fear,
but you know
the truth:
There are nothing more dangerous
than words,
in the bar their eyes gleiten
they want him to switch
just to have proof
if he muttered,
no but he wont:
I will never greet you as
the old friend you are
I know your gaze, posture
and hand
I remember a sentence, the shock
and smells,
in the bar their eyes gleiten
they want him to switch
just to have proof
artists learn skills noone else does
they play with genders and feelings
and become what others are
its not the same as
being a man.*
* Many female artists and writers have done this throughout the history: taken a mans name as pseudonym, or tried to write or create with the "gusto" of a man.
Arrival
I see his smile
in you
you
I see his smile
in you
you
I hear his laughter too
in you
you
and
his way,
his
how are the words he tell
does he whisper,
what does he do,
they owe me
in all their human ways?
Though even Bob Dylan
says winners are not like him,
so we will enter the outside
and walk in mud,
and thats when
we realize:
We always lived our indoor
lives in surround.
Frazey Ford, September Fields & Done
Erlend Øye: Rainman
HJERTE 2
Lovende
blir til pervo, heks, hore eller andre sleng-bemerkninger. For deg som er ung, så vit at det å få eller å slenge kommentarer eller avvise andre kollektivt heter namecalling og shunning på engelsk. Og at det er skadelig for den som opplever det.
Stop bullying: Kent/Friends Hålla Käften
Kent/Friends Hålla Käften
Whats the lyrics about?
17th June 2017
My Manic And I,
Laura Marling,
Å ha ei lyte/skade
(credits to some that showed me this song) Listening then as someone that once lost a ring, and too as with the writing tendencie to find my
own story in anything:
The morning is mocking
and the birds are singing to calm them down,
My Manic And I
The fairy tale end
noone beleived it,
keep your head up
cse some still have,
of brothers and cousins and
evenings with friends,
others have become the manic,
& stand in trials to tell
that there`s no no illness in me,
no I am harmed by relations
like in the past,
and cse him,
met you with a hardened look,
down by that river filled with ducks,
you girl went too far
well,
one day his eyes were blue,
the next brown,
scorn & silent face,
and the travel of words on you as
a living hell
is emotional abuse my friend
so you dont believe him,
no but what with the confusing feeling of someone
that is hot or cold,
so you become the manic,
their faces filled with anothers
instead of their own,
so who are you then,
someone like Lenü,
but her aspirations in your way,
so he says
this is enough,
we went to far,
this is why we are ill,
and of a sudden
In the middle of the concert
he`ll get the throw,
her words a gift, I know,
with a beautiful voice,
no, whats the point in writing
songs* if noone really
hear you.
*its a referance in a referance!
Emilie Nicholas, Let You Out, Junip Line of Fire
Timber Timbre, Demon Host
Jacob Faurholt, Floating in Space
Nick Drake: ´Cello Song
No Harm, Editors
That is what a text once was about: The trigging everyday life in the aftermaths of traumatic experiences. Be kind.
Female Gaze
is
on
Hands
To turn
around and
there you stood
tan an all
Batman
gav ham et manus
dette kan vi ikke lage bok av
sa han
The Wronged
:she
:he
:shrink
the shrink said
there are two types of
violence:
One is physical,
the other is psychological,
and the psychological
often comes first,
its the silence in between,
the secret smiles and little laughters
its the neglect of feelings, the
public mocking and emotional shield
is the sudden turnings, gaslighting
and no regrets
is the withdraw, the no answer,
you as noone and the other without
dissociative tendencies
This is why, With a referance to Bakhtin and his thoughts on polyphony, I Write and Make Art:
Fake Tapes & lamb B / /
I I I I messages
I I messages
music
Id do it again
Id do it again
I I I I messages
I I messages
you me
me am you
its you in me’
and you me
in
I I I I messages
I I messages
music
Id do it again
Id do it again *
Dissociated Gaze*, To Those that Stays Inspired by Lyrics on Trauma:
c`mon
c`mon
you a true
should not
stand in line to mock
frozen gazes,
dissociated states
frozen gazes,
and x5
oh ah I am a true believer
but in justice no not anymore
your hand without blood
and arm swings
from the carrying of you
body without any feeling
how then to defend
yourself
well, I will tell you:
The real trouble is,
you cant,
c`mon
c`mon
we all have faults,
but what of beliefs
later you ask:
why did you not
scream,
but people in frozen states
and immobility
dont talk or fight
and later
that colors everything
*Dissociated gaze:/stare Dissociating is a mental process that causes a lack of connection in someone’s thoughts, memory and sense of identity. Its a sort of disconnecting from reality or feelings that are overwhelming. Dont laugh of, or mock someone that struggle with dissociation after trauma, instead I suggest you give him or her a hug.
Behaving, Shower..Spooky song..
Daniel Kvammen, On Truth & Friendhip in your youth, LINK
Apparently I´ve lost my discog! Has anyone seen it?..oh and carry me home, please.
They Knew About the Brain
Batman
gav ham et manus
dette kan vi ikke lage bok av
sa han
Closure
Friends, I have
Sailing in Stripes*
uniform at sea
it a salty eye and candyme
sayin you are my only friends,
made me feel sorry for all of us,
and then as always someone faked a traged death
me crying then to pier
and lay lifless as always too
in printed summerdress
and then you lifted your glass
evil and unmature
or was it me imagining your
cruelty
salty eye, queen and Anna(e)
salty eye, queen and Anna(e)
king and all the rest
cowardice was to never tell the truth
wood, wood,
I see your mother
And now I am scaring you.
The Hit & All Offended
a slap at
his cheek
it was one & once
after
he`d said
he looked forward too
her getting old enough
a toddlers first steps
towards
womanhood
Ferrante is alive(?) no, they say she is gone, 1498
perhaps she is a victim of modern marketing strategies!
Please read my pushbutton-texts/pamflets>>>
Fab
but, we dont walk in gold
sometimes we dont even eat x2
artists are poor,
try that,
and youll get the
feeling of true feeling.
and then you can follow me.
But me being forgetful, I suppose that already has happened.*
* this lyric has a referance to 4 Disney/Pixar movies: Vaiana, Finding Dory, The Boss Baby, and possibly Frozen. + of course my inner circle of friends.
Someone to Watch over Me
jeg hører på jazz og katten
ett ullpledd og, da jeg var nitten
sa det hissig i meg,
dro Min Besværlige Venninne
til Italia og ble soloartist,
da jeg var nitten, sa det,
puttet jeg en mann i en
kvinnes sko bare fordi jeg
var redd for ham,
ligger det i nakken
for den bøyer jeg
men som nittenåring,
han hadde svarte øyne
og det kvikke blikket,
han satt på rommet mitt
og var imponert over en oppgave
jeg hadde skrevet om det tidligere
Jugoslavia, en gjest i en gruppe
mennesker fra krig hadde landet
på en folkehøyskole i Norge,
men hvorfor fikk han
Den Besværlige Venninna
med seg, jeg husker ikke,
den selvbevisste og veslevoksne Venninna mi, satt han på et tog, skramlet gjennom
Europa, mens han sølte kaffe på henne?
En flekk her, og en flekk der,
som blåe ringer under øyne,
nei, en gang stablet jeg ham
på beina, han var uten pust,
jeg vet ikke,
mennesker med lyter,
vi gir hverandre lite,
mens vi vet altfor godt hva
verden trenger,
og hvis jeg møtte ham igjen
ville jeg ikke nevne
eller noe annet,
for jeg har glemt
og
I Am Another,
shuffled through the streets
a tired santa with
his white beard
came to my door
and said he was
another too
: I am a woman deep
inside, was that
the thing then,
: Just as you are
a man,
his eyes were scared,
so I thought, oh no
I know who sent you
to climb my stairs,
once I saw that in
m m m m m too,
and to say goodbye to
people that I like,
yes Id rather stand in
a crowd
and see you do well
on stage,
and now to tell you:
I was never a man,
but once, in a moment,
I took a mans best traits
just to survive.
* This pamflet is on: To sympathize with the aggressor= In relation-ships: simply said, to, out of fear, take the perspective of the one who scares you instead of the one friendly.
(its a bargain for lost souls)
too many start
their careers with looking down
In The Wall
In 2009-16 I wrote lyrics that have been made use of without me been involved.
*On triggers. A trigger is something that
reminds you of and sets you off into old and often awful experiences. Are you traumatized and have triggers, that you tell your loved ones about, make sure they are stable and kind enough to handle that and them with care.
They Knew About the Brain
Whats the lyrics about? 11 april 2017
This is from me when listening.
Listening then, as a mother: To Wide Lovely Eyes from the Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds album Push the Sky Away-2013.
Wide Lovely Eyes
its Hide & Seek, and a song to a child, yes- I get the impression that the lyrics is written to a child, so:
The mother stands in the window as the father takes their child to child-care. Though everyone does, it feels strange to send the child away all day. As a family they are still working on that: The absence of child to get work done. And the child,
to cope with the absence of mom and dad. The child, with a small childs open eyes, and strides in her dress, waves to her mother, saying goodbye with her hands that still cant wave, instead they look like butterflies with fluttering wings, butterflies bending, and she is waving butterflies into the sky, and her mother answers the waving, or does the perspective change here, does she - the mother, suddenly, see herself as from a loved ones perspective: His eyes on her as her brain implodes and her hands goes up, up, a goodbye to a man, no,
and when she gets to her computer she wonders what world her child now caves into, perhaps a magical landscape that she herself
has left, yes through a tunnel of leaves down to the sea, and as grown-ups we can only try to imagine what our children do all day, and how they struggle to cope without their guides in life for many hours in row, yes ,
grown-ups close down the fun fair in our minds, and the the competitiondrive in men end up killing mermaids and creativity, and so we try to
keep the real threats of terror away by telling jokes.
In the experience of becoming a mum her brain is expanding, growing, the world is full of worry, and that while she and all organize surroundings to cope, and try to fill gatherings of friends with laughter,
and yes, me, sometimes I miss organizing shoes after shoesize and color and to look onto the world with curiosity.
Or as some girl said,
after she accidently had over-
heard a grownup conversation:
Næmanæmma died? She asked
with a serious look in her eyes. And I jumped at her having heard
my words, which were not
for her ears, and at her
already there to look for
answers I was afraid to
give. So, the world has
changed, I, we know.
And thats what
Wide Lovely Eyes
reminded me of.
Kärlekens vånda & krigets
helvete
Nähe, Thankful Song
Thought On
the ballet Sleepless Beauty,
Nasjonalballetten,
Oslo 7ht May 2017
Persefone & the rest
it a mans hand on your chest and neck
and me walking into
the foajé
as I say abuse, abuse, abuse
to lay in love
is to have man above
till the mothers eyes
turn sore
blackn white suites
and them holding apartments
for little lovers
without regard to any other
like a child walking into
sleepless nights as her mum
working double shifts again
couldnt that make
a beauty, blackened eyes
till the mountain as a curtain
his finger pointing to th sky
and then they fold
her green dress and possible
evil plans for futuristic towns,
till the end that I loved:
Curtain, drapery, and the
lift of her
yes
he lifted her.
Shore
come with me
and lend some warmth in hand
this tsi is some other lovesong
but then the loss of time
wont you come running after me
waking up with green leaves
no
had the feeling
you stood back there and cried,
tears for you and me
FFF*
high heels heading out-
I was told to leave a lovers night,
heard him whisper
fff
fff
fff
as I walked,
oh no oh
my pinkerbell,
I that got so many things to tell,
had a folder
with that name,
started in a kitchen 2000,
a sudden comfort
from a man
gave me a secret crush,
so
I wrote poems
that later accidently ended in all ears
fff
gone, of course,
who I wrote back then
was of a brochy family,
but thats oh so long ago
(17)(or so)
(Later fff* became a off pist web thing, that I lost to someone else.)
(*fff is of course also a song by Bebe Rexha)
Giblets, Gibbons, Burglar,
My Last Song(2017)
are awaiting
are awaiting
a break down
7 year old
7 year old
song
20 year million
20 year million
song
with no friends
in music buisness
its bisniss
they say
she lives in a one room
apartment
but
we want the world to bow
in the hall of fame
we are nothing but burglars
and,whatever,
noone will know.
Radiohead,
Oslo Spektrum 6th June 2017
Alle Ble Flaue/ Aa Bb Fau
Aaa Bbbb Faaau
(efil ym fo flaH)
(half of my life I fooled my loved)
Thoughts on daydreaming and a concert,
writing then as some strange lady
amongst audience,
and how do we listen to noise,
its in the background,
and what I hear is on
men in a row
they love(hope that you) it when you choke,
happy to serve you, were you,
Thom Yorke and every true musician,
no glam or glitter,
but knowledge, warmth and a strange glare,
some affects perhaps,
moves o a girl I cannot see,
she moves her body and Thom
does too,
sweetfaced ones that
we all can love,
thats whats happen when
you think youre in place,
perhaps a future in a song,
creator has a kit to make
an identity to come forth
in a once loved,
sadly, Groundhogday makes
no way,
no, truth will mess you up,
the true tale of your life will mess you up,
him a grey jacket, that hair,
always a new door, endless corridors
and then the sudden smirk.
All this to say:
love, love to Radiohead.
Sweet Faced Ones
We All Can Love*
as I walked by
her eyes hit your cheek
side by side
in your window
you lowered your head
oh no no
this i thisi girl
is in love
thisi girl
this i thisi girl
is in love
Reverse in Hand & Backwards Give
oh why
dont give me
whats mine,
50 000 from my
solitary fund
and she wouldve
had a room on her own
did he regret it
as he stopped
my reverse in hand
no dont do this to me
I I I that wrote songs
and verses from my
little town
we sat on the beach
and he fell in love
with any other than me
piles of books and him
perhaps as south
as any man
in north can be
so you lay me down
said
if you dont behave
your belt lit a light
till I scratched myself *
left marks
on my chest
didnt I
him road
was a backwards give
said
did you hurt yourself
or me
* This lyric is written to describe retraumatisation by violence, and self harm. To inflict self harm is a way to control your feelings. Its a normal reaction to/after abnormal experiences or abuse, but often scary to witness for those you love. If you know anyone that inflict self-harm, know its a language thats about outer harm turned inward. Help him/her to get calm, help him/her get out of harming relations, and in the length he/she will also need help to place shame where it belongs.
So This is Where We Have Met,
aaaa
so this is where we met
some harsh lit in yours
as I say
this is where we met
neck
aaaa
so this is where we met
a yard, a stair,
aaaa
truth is
a
I dont remember a thing
tongue
aaa
so this is where we met
giggle
mmm
aa
I dont remember
any
of
you
scar
mmm
then mock me
aaa
till this ends again
down
are there really none
that will not turn and whisper as I leave
in the corner of my eye
this what I see:
giggle, say
the guys made me
oh thats what you are
some gang of friends
that have not yet realized
how to greet
the one we love.
Thoughts on Ferrantes book 1, 30 july 2017 :
:
Its A book Written to a Brother & with love
Scarecrows & Widgets
Brother(as in Friend), where to put this anger.
I cant anything but see.
Brother, where to put this anger. I cant anything but see what scared me as a child still scares me. Men, their aggression and fights with or without fists. And then, as from the sidewalk, or in some window, from the side: what did you all become. The morning was mocking me, this pile of books off from some mans hand between thighs. In a daydream, he came by, said, do you remember, or did you close your eyes to them bullying us, and I: no lyar, dont do this to me, what else than to put him down and regress into writing instead. And to find words elsewhere.
Raining Giftful Giving
put page
and looking through appendix
me a
a a a ame
that small pony suits me
and we`re friends, the dog and me,
so pony, dog
any cats too, and a guinea pig perhaps,
cause we`re thoughtful
and now I tell:
listen, pony, cat, dog,
everyone seem to think
they know my inside head
mmm
mm
mna a a a
his ex or some across
the table
looked at me with spite,
mmmm
mmm
aaaamnnnnaa
tree, tree,
use in us
Committed By
Ordinary Canary, Salute
its a sad
he said
youll never recover
so they put forth some road
a bar, night, oh its commitment
to remember oneself
through new versions
thrown all over
helpfull, please see,
what if your own moments
walked right through me
might I render them,
and put em on instagram,
but I am not you,
I forget to mention
your inner feel,
proud or sad,
some gutfeel that say:
this is all so wrong.
it was me, leaning back
I was proud,
some V in my hand
oh back then
I was writer to a band
Se viktige serier og filmer som Skam og Hva vil folk si
V
V
Numbing and Immobility
they say this movie
is a cultureshock
well, we make too many
a girls life a hell
like shame and honour dont exist
in white middleclass
------
if you find in offices or in schools with silenced youngsters, help them
Manhood
laugther filled
but then you are
an instrumentalist
to the core
my hand against
your neck to
put the collar right
your comment
on this
would be
already you are
correcting me
my hand against
your neck to
put the collar right
it my grandma
hands in move from
inside me
and I never questioned
it to be anything but
care.*
© Tonje Høydahl Sørli
* and I still think it is: an act of care.
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Under finner du pamfletten Den Eneste Moren. Skrevet sommer 2016 om det at par/foreldre kan saksøke hverandre etter brudd, og at dette tillates, mens Konfliktrådet burde være stedet ex-par-men-foreldre(og andre) får hjelp:
Lines, on Motivation, in Norwegian
hvis eg skreiv, verkeleg skreiv og ikkje berre var ei halvgæern dame med hovudet i skyane og ballongar under føtene så ville eg ha spurt kan eg skrive på nynorsk for det var eg god til på ungdomsskolen der eg hadde verdas beste norsklærarinne og selv om nynorsken min no er skrullete og rar så var det ein gong ho som lærte meg å skrive skildringar eller var det da ho krevde det av klassen at eg oppdaga korleis eg såg på verda for vi skulle skrive ei skildring, ja eit sommerminne, og da skreiv eg korleis det var å rusle opp Karl Johan ein sommerdag alle luktane og lydane, bandet som spelte i gata, og ein gut som kikka på meg og så las ho mi stil høgt som så mange gonger seinare, for klassen, eg prøvde hardt å ikkje bli for stolt, men kvifor, endeleg var det noko eg verkeleg kunne, som akkurat eg var god på, eg kunne skrive, og om det seinare skulle bli noko som ble brukt mot meg så visste eg det ikkje da, heldigvis, det var lenge før folk stimla saman over ein pc på ein fest mens dei kikka spakt på meg og mumla at dei skulle finne noko, vi finn dei ikkje, filane er borte, ikkje sant, ja, men kva hvis eg hadde ein motivasjon anna enn å skrive om det eg såg og hørte fordi eg samla på sånt, så skal eg åpenhjerta nå si til deg at hei, eg har kapsla inn desse minnane, dette hendte meg, og eg har ikkje sagt dei til nokon, og då dei hadde vakse og brunne inne i meg til eg ikkje orka meir så putta eg dei inn i ei ramme og den ramma heitte ei forteljing, og hvis du finn forteljinga vil du kanskje klare å se dei øyeblikka som eg egentlig ville si deg men som eg ikkje turde på grunn av ei trussel om utsletting, og det er sørgeleg men det er menn, dei øyeblikka og den utslettinga er menn. Og eg skal leve kvar dag med hovudet på denne halsen og ryggen og eg skal fortsatt ikkje vise at det som kan skake nokon inn i ei anonym tilværelse er menn, for så tidleg, altfor tidleg tråkkar unge jenter inn i menn, eller er det omvendt, men ja dei har nett sprunge ut med frekner over nasen og små knoppar av bryst, ja akkurat da tar ei grov hand tak i deg ikkje sant og du skjønner at no for alltid så må eg væra på vakt, og det berre fordi du ikkje er eit barn lengre.
Annea Leaves Thankyou *
this is a a a
this i i i i i sis
evening boost
my tapestries in row,
on on oh its on
being small vs big, or strong,
what makes he
not greet me,
but, before I go,
to claim I am leaving
as Anna,
when I came as
myself, artist and mum,
Anna leaves, oh
then Anna leaves,
then to take her little hand,
earlier they had gathered, twenty dark youngsters at Walthamstow Central,
the speaker screamed:
this is evacuating alarm,
we found a sign to
the gallery and me
as always pretending
that everything was fine,
buying icecream,
and the riot disappeared,
Anna leaves, oh
then Anna leaves,
waking up without sleep,
they shrieked past my window all night,
the smell of
garbage and London
built on the old,
then I heared the
neighbour voice:
be a tiger for me eh?
I did pretend to see her,
his tiger in negligee,
till our flight was
cancelled,
and I rebooked and
then we left.
he gazed behind,
over his shoulder,
as I once did,
oh Yorke, this is,
why do we work,
like this,
Anna leaves, oh
then Anna leaves.
* I used to have names. Anna and Anne was
two of them. So this
lyrics is written with
thought on that.
Utested, Trondheim, starten av 2000-tallet en gang
han har sett så redd ut nå i lange tider,
hvorfor slenger folk dritt etter han, det er som om det blomstrer opp et hat der han og jeg er,
til jeg skjønner det: der de har forskanset seg rundt et bord i hjørnet, de roper Æsj, og sniktitter på oss som bare tar en øl, Pervo roper de,
han vil så gjerne slippe denne gjengen mer,
så han ler og spiller meg:
litt mer avmålt og kjølig blikk,
men så, etter uker med hersing
klarer jeg ikke mer- jeg snur meg og roper Pervo tilbake til gutta med sleik, Hore skriker de til svar, og ler høyt.
Dette er over 15 år siden, og starten på et liv med avmaktsfølelse, som ofte følger med mobbing.
Pervo var et ord unge i Nord-Trøndelag brukte i oppveksten min. Ble vi sinte og sure var det et ord vi kunne slenge fra oss. I gjengen som terget på utestedet den gangen, satt flere jeg kjente til fra før.
Selv om jeg skrev ironisk da som nå, streifet aldri tanken meg:
at noen kunne bruke en tekst senere, der Pervo var brukt som i
å sette grenser, for å plage noen som aldri hadde «vært pervo» i utgangspunktet.
For meg er og forblir Pervo et uttrykk fra en oppvekst i nord, som jeg ikke ville sagt med
mindre jeg hadde en god grunn.
HJERTE 1
Det som ligger mitt hjerte nærmest er å formidle rundt overgrep mot barn og unge. Det jeg vet er at mange sliter i etterdønningene av over-grep. Å sette fokus på og formidle om overgrep og traumereaksjoner mener jeg derfor er viktig.
Resume, Raise Your Arm
raise your arm
against rape and violence. Its
up & up. And then
embrace yourself.
Resume, but Why
the worst thing I think, about experience abuse in your youth,
is grief at been changed, forever not to be who you once were, and
living in fright that those you care for could be abused as well
For Me:.
I had no
language for this. Except to try to guard myself and them. But then, I started writing, and to try to reach those I love through lines.
I wont say I suceeded in my reaching out, secretive as I was, but my rhymes
and lines are out there, still.
Sorry the mess on my page, the template changed, so I give it a week and hope the page will look better
Do: catch the tone and tune, love, satire, humour or sarcasm, in a text or lyric.
Glances
I used to write
I used to write
I used to reach out
all uf us frightened
and only in the teens
but then they turned and smiled
as if I had some evil plan
she had this little dress
and flowers
sth else than me
but then I realised we all
had to go to a mans door
my hand he hit down, down,
into the floor,
I used to write
I used to write
I used to reach out*
all uf us frightened
and only in the teens
but then they turned to say:
I know who you are writing of**
* Why? Hurt is awful.
** Finding yourself in others writings isnt fun. Myself? I actually very seldom
write of people I know.
*** So this lyric is on being young. And writing about it later. And the look people can get when they think youve written about them.,
I chose Only
i work alone
by heart, and head alone,
and my hands,
alone.
Letter too, 12.07.2018
Denne teksten er ment som en kommentar til de som velger å avføye metoo. Likevel er mitt perspektiv at det å offentliggjøre folk ikke burde høre med som en del av metoo. Å sette lys på erfaringer som skader eller gjør utrygg, i oppvekst, utdanningsløp, tidlig karriere eller yrkesliv, var en gang mitt ønske for en metoo-bevegelse i Norge. Drop-out understreket dette i 2004.
*
det er lenge siden jeg skrev til deg,
jeg pleide det, Kjære Du, og hilsen:
Evig Din. Du var dagboka mi. Men selv
ikke i deg skrev jeg om sånt som
tidlig skremte meg. I dag tenker jeg
det var fordi jeg ikke hadde et
vokabular om eller en innsikt i
sånt som var motsatsen til det å
være god, som gjorde at jeg kunne
skrevet om det. Det var ikke ord der,
i forhold til de som handlet og valgte slemt, men heller følelser, reaksjoner og handlinger.
I dag står det igjen om megogså på nett,
og jeg tenker noe som forsvinner, og som og bør nevnes
i debatten om hvem som "egentlig
trakasserer": kvinner eller menn,
er psykisk vold. Som er en vold som dessuten
ofte kommer før fysisk vold.
Psykisk vold er det å bølle med,
herme etter, avvise, neglisjere, isolere,
ignorere, nekte å høre på, dominere,
gjøre mindre, true, invalidere, la
være å inkludere, diskreditere, benekte,
kritisere, og kommandere.
Er ikke det da, slik, at den som nekter
å ta inn over seg #metoo, megogså,
som en del
av en virkelighet mange kvinner lever i, egentlig på indirekte vis driver med den samme volden som var med på å kickstarte hele #metoo bevegelsen?
Og hva slags følelser oppstår i farvannet av det å igjen få sitt perspektiv og sine erfaringer avvist annet enn følelser som følger nettopp psykisk og fysisk vold? Som avmakt, skam, redsel, følelse av skyld,
depresjon, pessimisme, unngåelse
og tristhet.
Å leve i stillhet
for å slippe å bli avvist burde ikke
være et valg. Så da skriver jeg til den
som har problemer med #metoo, megogså:
lytt i stedet for å fortsette den neglekten det å avvise andres stemmer er.
Ties/ laces*
bookmaker holds
a little secret friend,
always found them
when am was in town:
shoelaces, thread,
mmmnn
mmmn
in red, brown,
never submarine though,
I was so young
and noone remembered
nn
the next day
followed as the next
he carried me
across the field
and put me to bed
some summergreen
or harvest no
to awake to nothing
made me a fiend
*Its a title on a book, a book that, with my eyes, clearly is written by Ferrante herself. Bigfoot in her life.
When Talking, /Humour and the Spirit that Slipped of the Page or / When I Tried to Stop Being the Altruistic and Anonymous Writer but Failed and Started a Yearlong Mourning /
When Talking
I didn`t
All lyrics ©Tonje Høydahl Sørli
Random Call 1
In 2013 I lost a hard disk/drive with lots of lyrics, ideas, photoes, manuscripts and also ideas for exhibitions on. It was black, shimmery, and also grey in color, and it disappeared from Kampen Slott where I lived. Seen it? Leave a note (sigh)*.
Random Call 2
In 2016 my piece When Grief Comes, with bluebirds, music, hammock ++ was stolen from an outdoor exhibition in Ask, outside of Gjerdrum community house. My favourite piece! Seen it: email me.
Thirteen, Seventeen, 1996/97/98
crybaby
crybaby see
what are they,
I cant see them human, please,
my brothers back on the bike,
and his frightened rushing,
while this agent stood in the stairway,
he told me in childish words:
how difficult it is to drive all this
fucking way,
yesterday he had droven into the coast,
between Nærøy and Vikna, yes almost blind,
but the lyrics please?
I told him it was written by hand,
and had been sent off with someone else:
"he came by last week,
with a stringent look and a occupied mind,"
and with a laugh, yes he
laughed,
---*----
come, lets bike, its autumn,
we will find a way to grieve,
yes this is us blinded,
and we lost again, *
* This lyric is on writing when young and trusting. And also on how it is to see those you love in distress.
Elana, Spind 1982
she in the cottage,
walking into water with her, feet,
it was little toe, and then the hand,
she hug me and I saw her as friend,
she read to us,
in her kitchen,
the book of ferrante,
but me a a a a ame me only 5 yrs old,
till I got to her door,
where she had turned her face down,
she said she was another, another,
than herself,
and I saw her head when,
when we passed as neighbours in the street.
De er Vakter,
Song om Gjesping og Du er Vakker
jeg gjespet visst,
i i i stad,
akkurat da du sa
at du hadde klippet gresset
og leste 8 bøker,
at du savnet kjæresten og da, i faren din sin hage,
og snart har jeg fri,
men oj jeg gjespet visst,
jeg gjespet visst,
i i i stad,
akkurat da hun var fyr og flamme,
over en match eller noe,
jeg gjespet visst,
i i i stad,
akkurat da du sa hadetbra,
og vi hadde ikke sett hverandre
på sikkert 18 måneder,
og da gikk du litt bryskt,
og uka etter,
gikk visst alle og gjespet,
de gjorde det overtydelig,
og bare når de så på meg,
og hvis jeg pratet
gjespet ikke du og jeg: sammen,
fordi du visste
jeg slet med insomni.*
* knapt en ferdig tekst, og den handler om gjesping og det at noen triangulerer.
Nyperose
On tapestry: I do a project now on Dog/hip-roses/ Nyperose, those you find north in Trøndelag, where I grew up. Look:
<----- one of several chapters/pamflets published on this site. Satirical, sometimes poetic, and written with interest in what I have found on dissociation in articles, books and research.
Scroll down! What is this lyrics- page? Its u.t.t.e.r.a.n.c.e.s, my short texts, pamflets and lyrics on aftermaths. Why? To set focus on traumarelated dissociation and coping. And? Because knowledge bring social change, and empathy in peoples heads & hearts. My lyrics are not to be used or copied.
The Ferry is Gone
you know nothing aabout what i just did,
and its not with subtle irony you stand there,
with your hand done to fist around strawberry jam,
me: i used to hold things,
and i used to stroke,
just to be here and to keep in touch,*
* For those that struggle with aftermaths: Hands are
essential. To hold and to have in your hand sth, as a stone, a cone, anything, will help you to stay in the here and now.
Hamster in My Fridge, january 2019
n m a sorry to say
this is the (l)only mothers refrain
this morning i
this morning i
this morning i
pretended it was fine,
noone hearts in melt,
just our little pet,
this morning i
this morning i
this morning i
saw him walk by
with his hand gently,
like he knew truth,
n m a sorry to say
this is the (l)only mothers refrain
this morning i
this morning i
this morning i
did realise it wasnt hybernating,
or teasing us, her eye in a glare,
oh dear little,
our hamster just died,
and m i only to say
this morning i
this morning i
this morning i
thought of White Winter Hymnal,
Fleet Foxes, and that year every youngster
did walk in red.*
* Feels like its wise to always explain my lyrics..: This is on living alone, in now and past. Now: the sudden death of a dear pet this weekend, and what to do, and how tell a kid about it, and yes the north these days is frozen and cold. Past: hearing music that bring back feelings, and also remind one of living in Oslo ten years ago- perhaps also when music was more a part of life than it is today.
Ingenting
Ingenting
En liten tekst om hat og elsk, feb 2019
vi holdt oss sammen,
på grunnlag av hav
og av et norsk slaveri
hvor tekst kjøpes,
og selges for ingenting.
det blir irriterende
når enden på visa er,
at ansvar og møter
gir andre informasjon
og endringsintiativ.
skjerm gir lys i sjelen,
ikke sant, men stjeles
det virkelig tekster
i verden, det er
mitt spørsmål
i teksten her:
På bakgrunn av avstand fra meg til deg når jeg er skribent: Er jeg nå forfatter av et dikt som ingen forstår som annet enn hat. Uroer det deg da at navnet på forfatteren er tatt bort senere og erstattet med et annet, så vit at det aldri handlet om møter med vennskap i bunnen.
Det er lite i dag som engasjerer mer enn debatt om debatt, men hva ventet vi oss som ikke er blitt hørt som den vi var. Forelskelse og elskede er ikke meningen bak vers om hat, det som er der er vel heller fordummende tøv om noe som ikke engang har vært levende. Og nå: er dette noe jeg skrev, eller er dette skrevet av deg? Eller hun? Han? En rekke bøker ligger der og har ikke blitt lest en gang. Men hva gjemmer seg mellom sidene annet enn noe som burde blitt lest uten at hat var lagt til grunn for forståelse, at innsikt da forsvinner er åpenbart.