Dóttir Páls

So. Recently I moved houses, meaning having to get all my shit organized. Shit I had long forgotten. This is a collection of 2008 poetry. Enjoy. Or not.

Here it goes.

June 21

To remember

Thinking what you said, it all was true. The days look back at me laughing in my grin. And if I won’t come back remember waht they said, that things won’t happen by themselves and if I don’t return (please) play my favorite tune remember all the days tthat we had my dearest June.

June 21

Bein mynd viðlíking persónugerving myndhverfing hlutgerving.

July 15

Up up in the mountains that is where my baby stays.

July 17

Furða og undur er allt sem ég sé hvað er ég? hvert fer ég? Er vitund mín draumsýn ein? Fagra fossa og fugla ég sé, er ég að ímynda mér? Hafa tálsýnir tamið huga mér? Hvaðan kem ég hvert liggur mín leið, draumar og tálsýnir allt sem ég sé.

July 18

Blár bíll gulur bíll fjólublár bíll Æðandi bíll Bíll sem keyrir götur ofan á mig yfir mig keyrir á mig valtar og sker hold. Blóð mitt lekur á mig yfir mig ofaná mig finn fyrir því undir mig kringum mig storknar á mér lekur í augun mín inní mig og útum mig.

July 22

This could be real interesting. Finding and hanging out with a late-sleeping music-snob, peace-loving easy-going, like yourself. Luck? Mayhem? Maybe a placebo-wishing effect. Mischien. Ahem, let us see.

September 5

Another way to go I know you’re afraid of the dark And see the way you’ll be leaving I see it’s covered by dirt ash all the way to the skies you won’t see the light for a while I wish I could be there for you, holding your hand and guide you the way through the dark.

September 7

Another day goes by Havn’t heard from you for days, I feel the uncertainiy of your absence I now feel it in my heart that you have gone away and I won’t see you again for a while and again I wish I was there for you, to guide you the way through the dark Even though it’s a long way. I’ll be there for you, I know you’re afraid of the dark.

September 21

Skil á heimspekiverk. Starving babies dead babies anorexia kids dead kittens animal cruelty alcohol syndrome chernobyl kids.

September 30

Making characters. Giving them names. Like playing dolls, like Sims. But you can do whatever you like. I love it.

September 30

Opening seams/seems? school project. Force. Love hate. Anger guilt. Seven deadly sins. Stendur og segir orðin, leikur illa, svo klippur sem pass við. Með amateur viðmót.

October 8-9

Þrír dagar fram í tímann. En brátt mun fleiri, án þess þú takir eftir því. Af hverju? Tíminn er svo fljótur/ljótur að líða. Þú tekur ekki einu sinni eftir því. Þú manst ekki eftir andartakinu. Hver einasti andadráttur. Hver einasti tónn leikinn sem þú heyrir. Allt svo verðmætt, líkt og tíminn sem flýgur burt frá okkur rennur úr greipum eins og vatnið. Tíminn og andartakið. sem við reyndum ákaft að fanga milli handa okkar í árdögum mannkyns. Keðja andardrátta teygir sig óralangt í hið óendanlega einsog það fylgi stöðugu og reglubundnu streymi útí skítugan óendanleika alheimsins.

October 10

So. Recently I moved houses, meaning having to get all my shit organized. Shit I had long forgotten. This is a collection of 2008 poetry. Enjoy. Or not.

Here it goes.

Jan 8

the teary rain reminds me of you, dear you still live inside of my heart, dear and the moon fills my heart of bliss the moments we had in the past, before you left (this life)

Jan 9

And he doesn’t know he sounds so big and his voice sounds so soothing in the blissful rain

Our dead babies whisper words I don’t understand

Jan 11

Ekkert getur svalað þorsta inní mér

I can’t think about anything while blazing the Mary’s I go with it. It doesn’t matter, none of them matter an the blissful oblivion, I can tell though I don’t feel it, I don’t care it doesn’t matter, none of them matter

August 24

She’s a living image of my imagined fancies she sits right besides me. I can’t say anything, I feel so paralyzed.. all I can to is stare.

Tell me goodbye, sing it to me, one more time, that song you used to sing before I fell asleep how safe I was in your arms, how charming our nights were, oh, my dearest prince.

Tell me goodbye, good night, that you’ll be in my arms when I’ll get back - we always got back – from our places in our dreams, thought we’d be in each others

Empty houses seem lonely and for, that lonesome town really ages of careless, nobody wants to remember.

So. Recently I moved houses, meaning having to get all my shit organized. Shit I had long forgotten. This is a collection of 2008 poetry. Enjoy. Or not. 

Here it goes.

“DAGBÓK and notes for daily cruel intentions, evil little deeds and life in general of the year 2008″.

Jan 8

And I see, when I wake you breath still and look so innocent and peaceful I don’t move in case I’ll wake you and interrupt your dreams.

Your eyes grow cold, this is it this is the end for us I see – oh – I see look doesn’t lie I’d rather die than see us fade and become to this.

Feb 23

Amy Winehouse fucked me last night. She had a penis and shitloads of aids ...................

Feb 27

Einu sinni var Siggi að borða mús þegar músin brettist í ljón. Ljónið varð brjálatt og ákvað að stela mjólk handa ungunum sínum og Siggi var reiður, þá kom Danni steraköggull með sixpakk og lamdi ljónið sem breyttist aftur í mús og Siggi borðaði músina upp til agna og Siggi varð stór og sterkur strákur.

March 2

Engin sönnun er til fyrir tilveru papanna.

March 5

All the tears you’ve ever cried they seem to go along with your lies.  (keep sleepwalking)

Jane says she’s here to rescue us as she takes off her wet hat. She takes out her sharp sword, along she shows us her collection of knifes. And so when her hat has dried, she says she only used us to try getting along with her dad again, which, I guess, rejected her because she died.

March 13

(Bang bang on the radio (too eager to satisfy you))

How do you do, it’s about the girl I see you (*) her (*) is I know you’re a female too, I know and you know I’m too but I want her more

Accurance afflicates you for accusing yourself for being a fairy.

She goes she doesn’t care of me talking about her nasty habits ... well I don’t know. She never says anything wise. Just waists the best years of her life. I don’t care I don’t care. It’s up to her, if she doesn’t care then I don’t care.

(Stay true to yourself)

March 15

Getuleysi fyrirgefst en viljaleysi ekki.

March 19

Þessa dagana sem ég hef lofað sjálfri mér að vera meir heima, hef ég rifjað upp af hverju ég var aldrei hérna in the first place / til að byrja með.

May 19

I came here to build mountains of amphibians. I will stay out all night, I got work to do ...

July 10

Hell sounds nice compared to you.

July 18

Take a look inside my life See my plots, evil little deeds and my cruel intentions. See how clear my head is, and how great it is having a mind of my own.

July 22

Flogasprauta kirkjugarðar kirkja stigi flogaveiki morð koddi + hvítt skordýr

Röndóttar peysur, rauðh. strákar

Sítt dökkt hár

August 22

“Þroski er hæfileikinn að lifa í heimi annarra.” – dagbókin mín

September 12

Checklistinn

Hæ. föt fyrir skólann skaramúss sögubók – taka með vera sæt. Eignast milljón hringja í Jenny panta linsur. Láta Helgu millifæra   finna busann minn fara í sleik fá mér að ríða leiðrétta skróp verða góð fara í sturtu losna við hausverkinn.

December 19

Loveliest sigh upon ther face she knows she knows I want her sleep beside her (in a lovely way) as I say I say I need her

Last words

In every mind hides at least one dirty though, an evil little deed or cruel intent we’d like to try out on another person. Though you might deny believing that fact I wouldn’t blame you, I used to say so aswell.

'No love lost' she spoke, like the that song she'd play repeatedly that day

She wouldn’t cry her heart out nor would she break of regret -- it wouldn’t matter, you see, they had not even met 

Ég ætlaði að yrkja ljóð um tilfinningar; hvernig mér líður þegar ég er nálægt þér, hvernig mér líður þegar þú ert fjær.

Ég hætti við, þvíégerekkifaggi, og ætla í staðinn að hella uppá kaff-i.  Og vefja mér sígarett-uu — (sem á líklega eftir að taka alltof langan tíma því ég er með ADHD og glEEEymi mér) — finn svo sjálfa mig nakta, kúrandi uppí rúmi að hugsa um þig.

Átta mig… og hugsa… æji úps… að ég sé aftur sein í tíma. Eftir áraraðir af líkum tilfellum eilífs gloom-leika og gleymsku er ég fegin það sé ekki skyldumæting í heimspekinni við HÍ.

Svo ég klæði mig aftur, hugsa um þig. Kaff-ið er kalt og lífið er stutt svo ég sýg að mér  súrum reyk og hugsa ekki um þig, heldur tilvistarkreppu minnar þjáðu forréttindasálar og hvort eplið sem Eva beit í hafi verið karamelluhúðað og kannski alveg worth the taste.