After what…

After this…
On the turning point, we now gaze back on what we left.
Talk is enough for where and who we are…way to much for us to cope.
Looking frail is what’s waiting for us in the not so far distance of existence
After Earth will be libarated, cleansed by Earth’s big swipe.
We stand stopped, we stod on remain’s and tread on our grand theft.
Under a barely recognisable sky, those below gasp for air and hope.
Over the peaks they see us with their twice stung shoulder’s and
gold-woven sixpence. After the last change in codes, they make sure the cure is ripe.


After what, comes after the next after…
What comes after, after all is gone…
after we see it all fall…

These day we learn to let go and say goodbye.
Speechless we stand here without any word to say.
After all is gone out of our hands, what’s left is the true lie.
No one left to feel and descripe the feeling of the Sun’s warm ray.
Mostly we miss the close touch of skin, feeling the warm pulse of blood’s rush.
We are born with imaculate dreams, attached with strings we never even known.
The changes is not for those who can,
it’s for the few observing.
After the never seen sunrise, who see the sun melt into the golden sea.

After what, comes after the next after…
what comes after, after all is gone…
after we see it all fall…

What will happen when life is faded and our monument’s crumple by the touch.
Like a sky we never seen here, alternated version’s of reallity roam
and never ever shown.
It’s sour indifferance in what we choose,
it’s all going round in an
everlasting ring.
Maybe we are ment to go blindly without the knowledge and never really be free.
These day’s we lost grib of our control,
if it was ever there.
Tired, we give in for the everlasting sleep hiding the imaculate dream.
After the curtain’s fall we feel the real tear of culture.
Day’s end up in a depived world where only emptyness send it’s lonely scream.

After that…

After nothing…. is nothing.

This entry was posted in Poetry on by .

About jachso

Hey Destiny Poets. I live in Denmark about 90 km from Copenhagen and works in Roskilde as a teacher and mentor. I'm probably not like most men of my age and yes I am aged 50 years old. I've tried a lot of jobs without finding what I'm passionate about. Writing, I have always loved and I was probably just 14 years old when I produced my first poem. I have not yet been released some of my poems, but I hope it happens one day. I just finished a novel which I would like to have published, now the time and talent show whether I have the ability to write. Poetry has a special meaning for me and this is where I really feel at home. My life has sometimes been marked by many losses. In the mid eighties, I lost my fiance at the time when the accident happened was pregnant. She lost control of the car and drove herself and her child, who was on his way thereby, to death. It has really made its mark on my life and way of thinking. In the late nineties, I had problems with my back and had to seek other avenues to support myself. I finally decided to enroll at university and was admitted to the humanist line. I read philosophy, science, psychology, journalism and history, but philosophy and psychology is my major interest. I thrive today in the RUC aka Roskilde University just 25 km from Copenhagen. My job is to guide and teach, and it is a job with speed and that gives me a lot again. I have two collections of poems ready to be released, if I can find a publisher who will publish them. I have no children, it would obviously be my lot in life although I have tried, but luck never smiled at me that way. If you have any questions for me so I hope you just ask away all you want, I'll respond as soon as I have read the questions. With kindest regards from Jan Sorensen

3 thoughts on “After what…

  1. amitapaul

    A stream of consciousness reflection on the nightmarish nature of finite existence in a barely understood universe .


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