Erlend Øye: Rainman 

Cold Mailman: Petra Pan & Something You Do.

         Fourth of July, 

Sia:Chandelier

           Explosions in the Sky: Your Hand in Mine

                                 Coldplay: Up&Up

Iris Viljanen, Ska vi fira

Bjørk: Yoga

           Mas Ysa: Face

Leonard Cohen, You Want it Darker & Leaving the Table

                  Nils Bech: Glimpse of Hope

Father John Misty: Real Love Baby

Bowie: Girl Loves Me         

    John Grant: Grey Tickles, Black Pressure

Emilie Nicholas, Let You Out,  Junip Line of Fire

Timber Timbre, Demon Host   

                   Jacob Faurholt, Floating in Space

Radiohead, Daydreaming, also backwards.

   Susanne Sundfør: Delirious, Fade Away,

                                Undercover

.

Flora Cash: You´re Somebody Else

       Jared Letho: Feelium 

Crash Test Dummies: Mmm Mmm...

Mas Ysa, Shame & Gun  Lana Del Ray: Music to Watch Boys to

Some songlyrics I love:

 London Grammar, Metal & Dust

Irgenwand

NB:

My pamphlets Waiting, Cocker Spaniel, The Only Mother(Håp, Sorg og Fødsel), You on the Island,  Kapittel 11. Empending Doom & Gloom. Og Secrets too ++ are not on this site anymore- because I am in a process with writing them. Futhermore: these pamphlets are not for sale or for share or given anyone. 

Walking

With Roses

walkwithroses

Walking With Roses walkwithroses

Om vennskap mellom kjønn

Thoughts on Ferrantes book 1, 30 july 2017 :

:

I believe this is A book Written to  a Brother for him to see what he is surrounded by & I do think its written 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.

-Tonje Høydahl Sørli

HOLY MOLY Friendship between you as a man, and a female, how to be her friend? You dont have to. Seldom you will be a friend, if you think you are over a she as a human. So many women and girls live without human rights like a good place to live today. Thats very very sad dont you think? "Women dont have rights, is that right?" Would be your answer. Sorry, but that makes you not just a man without insight but also some of a bully.

C

                                                            2020- nåv

Lyrics 1 On This Site:

This is where I someiimes posts a lyric

I got support from Kunstløftet in 2014 to do a comic-project on trauma-reactions, and still work on this as a theme (amongst others) in some of my projects. Thats how it is. This site have shortlyrics I have published/posted over several years. They sort of cover the core of  living in the aftermath of trauma, which is a life too many live  today. My writing about dissociation*, is done to highlight post-trauma-living. As an artist I have chosen to read about 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 firstly been personal, on feelings, and secondly to that on relations.

Though a direct tone- I dont write about anyone I have known or know on this site. And I hope  I dont offend anyone with my lyrics-prosject.  Most  I write are from what I  love in life, and that is  how you and me relate, observe and reflect as people, friends and sometimes lovers.

All lyrics©Tonje Høydahl Sørli

BONO-member

Do follow me  on  Instagram:   

@tonjehoydahlsorli.

On Facebook: once probably also  under a pseudonym, but today this is not my thing, though the use pseudonyms was quite common in artists careers back when I also made use of this teqhnique to get things said.

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 a child,

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.*

-Sørli

* This lady was my neighbour at Sørlandet, where I lived for four years. She told me people thought of her as crazy. Though she wasnt a friend I must have trusted her, 

But Why , Ungdomskilden:

When I was young I did have ptsd> I wrote to be part of this world. Also this used to hinder me in being in. 

When I think, about traumas, or traumatizing experiences for those that happens to, is grief at being changed, forever not to be who you once were, feeling absolute lonely, and living in fright that those you care for could experience the same as yourself, some of the saddest.

On me:.

This is on the none-dialogue

I had no language for my experiences. Except to try to guard myself and those I loved. So, I started writing, and to try to reach those I loved through lines. My lyrics I did put almost everywhere in my youth, and I gave away my lyrics as well, but I wont say I suceeded in my reaching out though(wich is what I actually tried to do), partly because I was so secretive about my lyrics. Still, my rhymes and lines are out there,  for someone to see. That again, is also a bit typical for someone like me to do, to reach out without being seen or heard, and is also why people with traumas live with a heart that is open to them that gets it, or else it keeps silent. This is my words to you as my reader, not to you as someone I know. 

hug

©Tonje Høydahl Sørli

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*

-Sørli

* When to have a voice and be part of. and to participate in change is my project, and then losing my anthem and favourite lyrics or works, getting nothing sold, just given away.. this will change you and your interest in this world. To this I will add that this project was not mine anymore, after I lost access to the computer it was written on. Loss of passwords is also sth I have in mind.

 Still I think this is a changing world, but we have little to give each other when every other human is giving in vain.*

*added 21.10.2019, Sørli

(My)Female Gaze

is

on

Hands

To turn

around and

there you stood

tan an all

Vår Helt

gav ham et manus

dette kan vi ikke lage bok av

sa han

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  ' ' ' ' '  '  ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' 

  ' ' ' ' '  '  ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' 

  ' ' ' ' '  '  ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' 

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All lyrics and photoes on this website---->>©Tonje Høydahl Sørli

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  ' ' ' ' '  '  ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' 

  ' ' ' ' '  '  ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' 

Magic. (MusicMagic. (MusicMagic. (Mu

Magic. (MusicMagic. (MusicMagic. (Mu

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I love this song:

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.

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I teksten over brukes mitt billedvevarbeid "Lille Pjusk" som illustrasjon. Denne vevde jeg til en oppgave i fagdidaktikk. Motivet i veven er appropriert fra Carl Barks sin tegneseriehistorie Jul i pengelens fra 1954. Og ble til med et behov for å si med vev hvor avmektig jeg følte meg som enslig mor med liten til ingen inntekt på egne arbeider, og det å leve på en inntekt under fattigdomsgrensa over flere år. Og, jeg er så glad for at det finnes ordninger i Norge for de som har lite i inntekt. 

Og om lyrikk jeg har skrevet vil jeg si: det er utenforskap å gjøres bruk av uten å være ordentlig involvert. Dikt og tekst som på ulikt vis har havnet hos deg vil jeg ha tilbake. Vær snill og ikke gjør bruk av dikt uten at jeg er involvert i ditt prosjekt med meg tilstede.

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 they say she is gone, 1498

perhaps she is a victim of modern marketing strategies! 

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Spitting

yesterday she sighed:

why are they moaning as we pass,

m m m a ma ma ma ma

today I looked down,

another man spitting, all right, 

m m m m ma ma ma ma

what happend to this world,

its like every other thing we do,

will make a lense, will hurt us  back,

when we are without support,

my hand to my rinning eye,

becomes a pretend to cry,

my hand to my chest,

is just what he forgot,

a back with pain so I sigh,

is seen as a plan for mockery*

©Tonje Høydahl Sørli

* This is Norway 2019, and its five years back, that I realised: I cant talk, cse there is real hate in them, its not dialogue here anymore, but spite and venge and being on guard, and even artists now put intentions in artworks and lyrics that the maker do not have.*

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.

-Sørli

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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, was he,

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 just to say:

lovenlove to Radiohead.

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.

-H Sørli

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Noen Anmeldelser som er blitt gammelt nytt  >>>>>>

Lines, on Motivation, in Norwegian

hvis eg skreiv, verkeleg skreiv og ikkje oppfatta dette 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 ungdomsskulen der eg hadde verdas beste norsklærarinne er nynorsken min no blitt kavete og rar så var det ein gong ho som hjalp og 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 vokse og brunne opp 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 tråkker 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 skjøner at no for alltid så må eg være på vakt, og det berre fordi du ikkje er eit barn lengre.

^selfportrait from 2014/15, so its my old stuff, a three-page-comic 

on being in love when people and places are toxic: the result is brainfog. 

Waves of Guilt,        15.03.2019

Friday Morning

tried to start the day

with Pretty Pimpin,

by Kurt Vile,

then I turned to

Closer My God,

of Mikko Joensuu,

just to remind

myself of how the thirties

slowly changed to forty,

n cant anything but say

we always used to

see things in a humoristic way,

but then crosses come, right,

n as we are turning grey,

most of us rightly closer to a god,

but then, this morning, we started to sing,

with a little musicly guilt

One uf Us,

one of is,

yes, always in love.*

-Sørli

* Musikk gjør livet bedre, men hva gjør du med musikken?

Den burde jo overstrøs som krymmel men blir bare hufset vekk inn i ungdomstid og selvforakt. Men her i mitt hjem, sang vi i dag, også gikk vi til skole og jobb med roser i kinnene tross alt.

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

-Sørli

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

-Sørli

* 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.

Märtha,

så seg aldri som dronning,

i et øyeblikk har hun snudd seg,

og ser med sorg,

det er vel ikke sånn,

at hun har noe annet,

hun en gang var,

en kvinne med en forening,

en mening og et verv,

at hun har vært stolt av seg selv,

men så skal hun for alltid være,

hun som ikke sa hvem hun var.

V

V

Numbing and Immobility

they say this movie

is a eye into someones

world, elsewhere,

I think we make too many a girls life a struggle

living in Norway as well,

stimes its like this world likes to think that shame and family first dont exist in white middleclass

------

if you find yourself in offices or in schools with silenced and frightened youngsters, help them

-Sørli

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.

-Tonje Høydahl Sørli

The Quilt and the Beggar 1/Woman in Tower

of Song

This Spring

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.*

-Sørli

* To explain this lyric I write this: 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. This because of perspectives and expectations of women, both now and then.

Perhaps this is also why summers become strange and foggy for youngsters in May:

Men før det, i bilen på vei hjem så hadde de en samtale som var omtrent slik:

Hun: (fortvilet) Hva sa jeg, altså jeg bare, sa jeg at jeg hadde skrevet en Monsterhit?

Han: Ja, nå har det snæppa for deg altså, ALLE vet jo dessuten at det er jeg som skriver låter.

Hun: Herregud så flaut.

Han: (stille)

Hun: Kanskje jeg bare et lite øyeblikk skulle ønske jeg var deg, var i dine sko. Ja, tok noen av dine eh..ja du er jo så vellykket..ikke projeksjon, hva er det, attribuerte noen av dine karaktertrekk?

Han: Godt mulig, du er jo i en fortvilet livssituasjon.

Hun: Ja,*

-Sørli

All lyrics on this page---->>©Tonje Høydahl Sørli

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

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)

-Sørli

That is what a text once was about: The trigging everyday life in the aftermaths of traumatic experiences. Be kind.

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They Knew About the Brain

The Ferry is Gone

you know nothing about 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,*

-Aa

Sørli 

* 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.

Summer in my studio, and this struck me.

 I chose Only

i work alone

by heart, and head alone,

and my hands,

alone.

-Sørli

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(its a bargain for lost souls)

too many start

their careers with looking down