A poem about the relevance of Quantum Physics to contemporaries relationships

There is a tiny and delicate limit

dictated by the constant of Planck

when Nature gets so completely lost

that breaks down and comes to a blank,

and a total ignorance makes it dumb

and  speechless: wave or particle?

It can’t  send any reasonable message

to cover the nakedness of this crackle.   

The same about us and even worse,

cause there is no Copenhagen Interpretation

that could help us to answer

that stubborn and awesome question

we keep asking ourselves irrevocably:

Do we love each other, or do we not?

Even the stars above us couldn’t unbind

the blindness of this merciless knot. 

So what shall we do? Maybe we must,

like this unconscious universe itself,

go ahead, evolving and expanding ourselves,

until there is none of me, of you, or anything else.

by Guilherme Preger

A poem about a little kind of a Joker called Love

Confronting solitude

can be not so hard

if only you consider

love not a missing card.

Maybe the one you have just

forgotten on your sleeve:

you could have used it

but you prefered not to believe

you still had the chance.

But not for the risk you couldn’t tame,

as, like Amy Winehouse’s

Love is a losing game,

you knew you’d miss it anyway.

No! Love is completely available

for an undetermined move

anyone anytime can handle.

So in a mess of a solitude

imagine yourself a little gambler,

you  can’t have ever full hands

but remains this kind of a Joker

you must remember to put at stake

in a play no one couldn’t refrain

not because there is nothing to lose

but hard a necessity to gain.

by Guilherme Preger

A Poem about a Friday night doing less than nothing while waiting for a telephone call

it´s so clear

that i need a rest

even though to stir

would be the best.

oh only a possible rest,

a moment not to think,

so even a little remembrance

would make me shrink.

how could i distend

alongside a fresh bed

and wash all this stuff

that shits my head,

so that i could start something

again from a immaculate blank?

A bed with a mattress like a placid lagoon

i could plunge and slumber where Hope sank.