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 Don`t write songs, but I do write lyrics sometimes used in songs. Meanwhile another place he sets off some

new album..

The Czars, Drug

Explosions in the Sky: Your Hand in Mine

Coldplay: Up&Up

Dot Hacker, Eye Opener

CocoRosie: Child Bride London Grammar, Metal & Dust

Bjørk: Yoga

Mas Ysa: Face

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!

Jimi Tenor, Moonfolk, & Tame Impala, Let it Happen

John Maus, All Aboard/Skjønte du spøken!??

Leonard Cohen, You Want it Darker & Leaving the Table

 

Father John Misty: Real Love Baby

Alice Boman/ Jaakko Eino Kalevi, Be Mine

 

Kent, Den sista sången du får.

Tindersticks: Follow Me

Night Beds: Dear Jewell Arcade Fire: Put Your Money on Me Tindersticks Dear

/poems / texts:

Carrier, Where did You Run>>>>>

>>

 

Illusive Writing/

---leaving the table

 

In 2016 some claimed that

I imagined that I wrote.

Then my illusive writing came

to grab my motherhood

by its tail.

Along with this, online mockery

of people with traumas has

made me low.

So I have lost my

passion for sharing lyrics.

And sorry, but I have

decided to put

my pseudonyms to rest,

and I wont work without

formal meetings again

(which mean I have).

But for the future, I am sure

there are other ways to

communicate.

 

Love for 2018,

take care.

 

 

 

On Songlyrics:

 

Once I had a partner, but today when it comes to lyrics I work absolutely and totally alone. Five years ago my lyrics were in use without my knowing. Four years ago several bands used my lyrics with my blessing. Three-Two years ago I withdrew. This not because of musicians, or the bands, but of troublemakers.

Time passes, at this moment I have no partners, I dont have any agreements with any companies, or contracts. + I dont publish elsewere but on this website. And important: I dont sell my lyrics or let anyone sell them. This must seem pathetic to write, but it has happend in my past. I have never been paid for songlyrics. I live in a one-room-apartment(and Im a mum), so thinking of this makes me crumble. But as you see- I wont probably be paid in in my future either! So my lyrics will not be used again withhout my personal blessing or a contract. This said, I miss the old times when I had music. Music was feeling and work, thats what I love(d).

 

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 cover the core of a life in in the aftermath of trauma, which is a life too many live today. Besides from this, my focus in lyrics has always been relations.

 

I used to have a blogish thing(ago), now: none. This is my only website, and my emailadress is here.. Stating this because I no longer have access to my Steve and/ Anne/a-account(email- account under pseudonyms).

 

Although my lyrics sometimes are 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.

Nyperose, Nyperose, jeg vil være den du er
Bluebird. Bluebird. Bluebird.
Portraits, Små Portretter fra 2013

Walking With Roses

Vi Er Indianere- stå opp, vær en venn, ikke la urett ramme dem du elsker.

Selv var jeg indianer sammen med noen i oppveksten. Vi var ikke mange, men mange nok til å støtte hverandre i en kamp om rett og galt.

 

 

 

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 christ,

I dont have alzheimer,

 

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

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All lyrics ©Tonje Høydahl Sørli

BONO-member

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.

 

 

Her Life Seems Dull

 

 

-dont write about black buzzers!

ok?

 

-yepsipepsi

sorry

 

-handsome men then?

Il`l write about them.

 

 

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)

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

We Dont Know what the Little Bird Sings!

Radiohead, Daydreaming, also backwards.

Susanne Sundfør: Delirious, Fade Away,

Undercover

 

.

Team Me, June, I Killed Sarah V..Lowell.

Smashing Pumpkins, Lily(My One and Only)

Squirrel Nut Zippers! Pallin with Al

Farao, Sparks Edith Piaf said it better

 

 

 

 

 Every Problem has a Limited Lifespan!
 Every Problem has a Limited Lifespan!
 Every Problem has a Limited Lifespan!
 Every Problem has a Limited Lifespan!

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She is Lost in Thought
She is Lost in Thought
Bluebird. Bluebird. Bluebird.

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.

 

Running Fox

1 Bloom! & Jolly Future!

 

 

Bloom & Jolly Future!
Bloom & Jolly Future! Detalj

Tonje Høydahl Sørli

tapestry, comics and random writings

Tonje (& Annea) Høydahl Sørli

tapestry, comics and random writings

Tonje Høydahl Sørli

tapestry, comics and random writings

weaver, songwriter & writer

Fathers Dismay

 

he:

dear meet my girl

she is soft and light

today today

 

eating down into plates

turning cups and glasses

 

silence burning

its to slice

 

silence burning

the food is good good

 

buts the fathers dismay

dear meet my girl

she is soft and light

today today

 

they say we can choose

the partner we want

 

but whats it gonna cost

when the father dismay*

 

 

 

* this is not my father, its a scene from a restaurant. Seen from the side, that be me, two tables away.

 

Apothek, Inheritance

Sia:Chandelier

 

2. Pressure & Motherhood, this is theme in the piece Bloom! & Jolly Future!

 

Blatant Ego Game!
Fawn Response!

Bob Dylan, >>>>The Times They are A-Changing. GO pop-lyrics!!. Society__>

All That We´ve Become

 

 

Losers Can Win(ref Starwalker)/

 

 

 

 

They Say That in Life You Make Your Own Luck!
He Disappears in a Cloud of Black Ink! And its the awful truth.

Amason, Kelly & Yellow Moon

Fleet Foxes, White Winter Hymnal

Lars Vaular: Dessverre

Sundfør: Undercover(Edit)

Rockettothesky: The Dead, Dead

Water

Lily Thing

Bright Eyes, Lua

Bowie: Girl Loves Me

John Grant: Grey Tickles, Black Pressure

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.*

 

 

Kärläkens vånda

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

Itsa Girlie in Me
Portraits, 2013

Leonard, Rest in peace,

& The Future Album 1992

 

voice

so dark

from the 1st floor

my parents playing music

when I was twelve

 

I looked at them

and got somehow

a grip on what music does:

 

It fills your head

and life with joy.

 

Post It Girls!
See My True Shadow! Its for clothes, hoodie, whatever. You dont have a shadow? No? Come on! Everybody has one. Mine is not out walking at night. She is, if at all awake, writing.

 

 

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

Cass Mccombs: Bum Bum Bum,

Iris Viljanen, Ska vi fira

P J Harvey: The Ministry of Defence

Nick Drake: ´Cello Song

No Harm, Editors

Cold Mailman: Petra Pan & Something You Do.

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

 

 

 

 

Girls Under Pressure on Respatex

This is why, With a referance to Bakhtin and his thoughts on polyphony, I Write:

 

 

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 Freeze Because of 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

 

 

 

 

 

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.

 

And a movie: Everyone working with social welfare/NAV should go and see I, Daniel Blake

 

They Knew About the Brain

 

Batman

 

gav ham et manus

dette kan vi ikke lage bok av

sa han

 

Closure

Friends, I have

Another tip: Småfugler/Prestir & Hva vil folk si ++

Vaiana

 

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(?)

 

perhaps she is a victim of modern marketing strategies! The day she if so receives the nobel prize

in literature will be interesting.

 

 

Please read my pushbutton-texts/pamflets:

 

 

but, we dont walk in gold

sometimes we dont even eat x2

 

artists are poor Chief,

try that,

and youll get the

feeling of true tragedy

 

and then you can write me.

 

But being Dory, 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 Fifty Shades of Grey

 

Bluebird
Bluebird
When Color Run/Bleed

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 tyrkitaliener i en gruppe

skadeskutte mennesker hadde landet

på en folkehøyskole i Lillehammer,

men hvorfor tok han

Den Besværlige Venninna

fra meg, og 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 skader,

 

vi ødelegger for hverandre,

mens vi vet altfor godt hva

verden trenger,

 

og hvis jeg møtte ham igjen

ville jeg ikke nevne Venninna

eller noe annet,

for jeg har glemt

og det er sikkert noen andre

glade for.

 

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 above is on: To sympathize with the aggressor= in relationships: simply put, to, out of fear, take the perspective of the one who scares you..

 

Brittle Little Meets the Brutal Truth!

 

(its a bargain for lost souls)

 

 

 

too many start

their careers with looking down

 

 

 

Met The Wall

 

In 2009-13 I wrote 5 scripts that have ended in the wrong end. I withdrew on these projects particularly because I was afraid Id hurt someone in the process.

 

In the future, Id recommend people that get a script in their hand to have an ongoing dialogue with the writer.

 

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.

 

Scroll down! (rull ut tekstene dine sa han,) vel:

Bananasongs
Bloom & Jolly Future in Holburne Museum, Bath

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

 

Viktige serier og filmer som Skam og Hva vil folk si går verden rundt, Norske tekst-og manusforfattere fortjener dette.

 

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 yourself 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.

 

Abelvær, Hundhammeren, Summers in My Youth
Vesuv
When Grief Comes, this piece was stolen from the exhibition in Ask in 2016.

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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:

 

 

Anna Leaves Thankyou *

 

this is a a a

this i i i i i sis

 

evening boost

my tapestrie at display

on on oh its on

powerstruggle,

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.

 

Brittle Little & the Brutal Truth, now shown at Wiliam Morris Gallery in London

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.

HJERTE 2

 

Lovende

blir til pervo, heks, hore eller andre slengbemerkninger. 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

HJERTE 3

 

Mekaniske jeg

Nå er det Øya igjen. Selv har jeg ikke råd til å gå. Byen fylles av folk som ikke har vært her på en stund. Det samme gjør vinduskarmen min.

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 Myself:.

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 loved through lines.

I wont say I suceeded in my reaching out, secretive as I was, but my rhymes

and lines are out there, still.

 

On Lyrics

 

I have written some lyrics that were comments to what I viewed as a growing culture of low limits and moral when it comes to sex. In wrong hands the irony and sarcasm in these lyrics has vanished. Its a thin line sometimes in getting the message through, therefore, the writer should be involved. I am very sorry this has not been the case. Voicing this, though Im also aware that there are many skilled artists and producers out there that can catch the tone and tune, and irony or sarcasm, in a text easily.

 

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 about**

 

 

* 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.,

Raphael, written 20.08.2018

 

have you seen my cell,

its eastthrown and down,

earthly, like nothing is sold,

 

didnt like you lookin,

glasses, and then the th,

you different back then,

when we were friends,

saw his eyes and his smile,

 

oh I give you five years,

and youll turn and see:

You did her wrong.

 

Give it no thought,

and it will give you,

It will grab your hand,

your arm,

graffitti on your wall:

what you do is covert and rong.

 

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 hold

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.

Bloom & Jolly Future

Mustach in His Pocket,

Thirteen, Seventeen, Wrath Queen,

 

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 wild,

between Nærøy and Vikna, yes almost blind,

 

but the manuscript please?

 

I told him it was written by hand,

and had been sent off with another man:

 

"he came by last week,

with a stringent look and a heavy mustach,"

 

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, *

 

 

 

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.

 

Another sloppy writing from North?

When Color Run