It is Plane to See
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/15/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
It is plane to see,
Planes fly over me,
I’m too poor to,
Fly in them, see?
But one day,
People just might desire,
True food: Then,
Seats of planes I’ll hire!
But my food isn’t,
Plane to see,
It flies with God,
Naturally.
So I wait on ground,
Under tree,
Until I can soar,
People free.
Bird-angels are now working,
With the Holy Spirit,
Endowing branches of trees,
That truth: they can hear it.
So it is plane to see,
As this nose on my face,
God anon prepares,
Wings for the human race.
Which is why the sound of propeller,
Or the sound of jet,
In That Day is a heart-tempo thriller,
Though not flying yet.
We must fly above the clouds and earth,
But not with the usual religious pride,
But In That Day in holy, humble mirth,
Awe and patience in Yahweh we ride!
Why Pencils Have Erasers
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/16/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Pencils have erasers,
Since we make mistakers.
God gives us forgiveness,
To disappear sin in us.
But then with others,
Erasers are bothers…
Evil done us is oft written in stone,
We can’t, no can’t, just leave it alone.
Others ask forgiveness to erase the past,
But we run to court to make it stick fast.
Taking in mercy, but giving none,
Is not the way of God’s true Son.
Sure, too many mistakes and the eraser’s rubbed off,
Just as too much sin makes justice say, Enough!
And then some are so perfect, pencil to the nub,
Not one speck of eraser is even once rubbed!
But most of us are like a Number Two Pencil,
Hoping veritas lead outpaces our dense will!
Scripture says, Judge not lest ye be judged,
Else all that you wrote or were be smudged.
Eliding into Eternity, Not
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/18/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Eliding into eternity,
Obfuscation rules the day,
Nothing really matters,
Elusive: whatever we say.
We vote for our pastors and politicians,
And send tithes to cable TV,
We figure thus to be enlightened,
Our give-to-get charity.
Our pastors con us with softball pitches,
Everything for our deaf, collective ear itches,
Never thinking the same ploy us bewitches,
From politic-media-Jezebel-control bitches.
Egalitarian eliding,
Rules us and our day,
We hate only one thing,
He who speaks truth’s way.
We elide ourselves,
About just anything,
Except of course,
Rebels of Elide King.
Perhaps some warrior group,
Dedicated to King David’s good-overcomes-evil way,
Might, could drill and teach us,
Non-eliding, long-avoided, plain-hard truth: In That Day.
Where Will the Virtuous Come From?
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/20/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
In today’s intellectual mess,
Where will the virtuous come from?
Though school, church and culture,
Are much befouled, here’s the truth, son.
The virtuous will perhaps and behold come,
From dojo, religious mojo and schools of no-know,
From dojo, to Systema’s fine Russian Martial Art,
From religious mojo, to In That Day’s start,
From no-know, to deep unto deep’s heart.
Between utopia’s too many laws,
And the licentious absence thereof,
Is liberty’s self-restrained balance,
Honoring opponents’ truth with love.
This maturity of being,
Is the fruit of short-sighted institutions,
That birth, surprise-quick,
Rebel students, steeled for restitutions.
The restoration of all things,
Is thus truly at hand,
When man stops enslaving man,
Just because he can.
The slightly wiser have been,
Enslaving the slightly less wise for years,
Now comes the more virtuous,
Stopping over lords of mind rape and tears.
The slightly wiser are entrenched,
With billions at their side,
Their plan: Make the less wise dumber,
And beat the wiser-than-them’s hide.
The slightly wiser, in power,
Have no fear of truth, nor any man,
They will be surprised by fear,
And plans no carnal mind can understand.
Truth wins, lies lose,
Is what happens In That Day,
None else matters,
Despite what the slight-wise say.
Again: Truth wins and lies lose,
What profit in this?
Grandees’ power dies, sheep thrive,
True prophets in bliss.
America, (in Need of) the Beautiful (Treatment)
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/21/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
For one hundred years progressives,
Have inculcated a mobocracy to steer,
For one hundred years progressives,
Have created dumbed-down ears to hear.
Over culture lords of lunacy have taught,
The underclass of lack,
The best way for them to get freedom is,
To middle class attack.
It’s insane, this relative progressive reasoning,
At core against Western Enlightenment,
Nevertheless, through corrupt public education,
The underclass has been affrighted.
The under culture has been thoroughly affrighted,
By believing over culture theo-economic gurus,
Who say the middle culture are racist, greed-bigots,
Out to make the under culture’s dreams boohoos.
So that now if reason, the U.S. Constitution,
And enlightenment prevailed,
The under culture might have some kind of civil war,
To get liberty derailed!
Easily mesmerized by despot demagogues,
Commissars have taught the under culture its idiotic fears,
Over lords give us now this horrible future,
Not alabaster, not gleaming, not undimmed by human tears.
America’s under culture,
Abused for so long by its over culture lothario,
Must lose its abusive lover,
And the lie that self-restraint isn’t the way to go.
Good God! What will it take in our land,
To disabuse the over culture and under culture its lies?
Beautifying pains, pains and more pains,
Ever as always make truth live, while its nemesis dies.
Get ready for pains, America,
America the beautiful,
To show the world its crowning future,
In, through and to truth: dutiful.
A Republic, If You Can Keep It
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/22/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Outside Independence Hall when
the Constitutional Convention of 1787 ended,
Mrs. Powel of Philadelphia asked Benjamin Franklin,
"Well, Doctor, what have we got, a republic or a monarchy?"
With no hesitation whatsoever, Franklin responded,
"A republic, if you can keep it."
What happens when a republic,
Becomes a corrupt democracy?
As a man thinks, and that nation,
So he is, and so that nation be!
At core, is a man at peace,
With himself, others and how the world is?
Or is he feeling inferior, done in,
Or the opposite, on top in guilty hubris?
The inferior-superiors,
Are the mother of troubles,
The at-peace-with-all,
Are the republic’s brothers.
So for two hundred years,
Republics have shown the way,
Only for over and under lords,
Of malaise to deceive the day.
The over and under despot cultures,
Breed vice and corruption,
Blaming republic rule-of-law governance,
As their grievance connection.
Always the cry is,
They did something unfair to us,
Always the cry is,
Beggar the neighbors to us bless!
The neighbors are any not,
Poor or lords of lunacy in charge,
The neighbors are made poor,
That only lords of lunacy loom large.
Amazing this idiocy happens now,
In modern republic nations,
Only great, horrific, unbearable pain,
Brings corrupt to foundations.
Our foundations are built,
Upon eternal hope, freedom and liberty,
Not one lord class perking lesser,
Who needs hell, when we can be free?
Only great pain,
Of epic proportions,
Shall stop evil lords,
Begetting more whore’s sons.
In That Day of pain,
When many will see the light,
Lords be gone again,
Republic freed, wrongs made right.
Hallelujah for God’s patience,
And letting us by example see,
How close we are to heaven,
Or hell our nations by choice be.
Who Uses Useful Idiots?
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/22/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Who uses useful idiots,
Who can, via dumbed down process, be controlled?
Big idiot demagogues,
Signing their blood to the Devil: Their souls are sold!
Who uses useful idiots?
The so-called Christian shenanigan preachers!
They use, without detection,
Mesmerizing wiles as purse-pocket reachers.
Who uses useful idiots?
Politicians demanding ever increased taxes!
Beggar thy neighbor, they say,
Never hacking out corrupt roots with axes.
Who uses useful idiots?
The corrupt, unionized, self-serving educators!
They teach mice to love cats,
As robotic Western Enlightenment Terminators.
Who uses useful idiots?
The pabulum news-entertainment empty headlings!
Countless hours showing,
Countless hours are best spent on countless things.
Who uses useful idiots?
Big business in collusion with the rest,
Religion, government and media,
Agree with impunity: They all know best!
They know that there are no higher truths,
For mankind’s good discovered yet,
They keep us in low-orbit thought control,
How can billionaire be, without idiot?
Who uses useful idiots?
In fact, God uses these masters of sorcery,
Mystic tyrants they are,
For man to fight and rise above: To be free!
Useful idiots are then useful,
In ways that make us smile,
God shows us how proud we are,
To be humble, not vile.
The problem then with users,
Of their useful idiots,
Grandee users become brain dead,
Stupid is as it begets!
And we’ve all been useful idiots,
To some tyrant or the other,
Better yet to forgive, forgive!
With God and man: be lover.
Violence against idiocy,
Is rarely anything but idiotic,
The way to break the chains,
Is to be God-smart patriotic.
A fool believes in foolish things,
And brings upon all the storm,
The trick is to be beyond wise,
And make beyond love the norm.
Beyond love is sacrifice,
I will bet you did not want to hear that!
Neither do the users of,
Useful idiots: They keep such under hat.
Anything noble, anything grand,
Anything high above this good life,
Users of useful idiots all around,
Deny, deny: Substituting vain strife.
Why does God allow such masked slavery,
Cruel usage and hidden poverty of thought?
Because God knows what you are made of,
His breath, His image: His child not forgot!
Ask: How Are You Going to Screw Me?
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/24/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
How are you going to screw me?
Is a rude, but sometimes good question to ask,
When your money parts wallet,
To obtain a nebulous, indirect, or blessed task.
How are you going to screw me?
Ask: When you contribute to a church,
Will preacher say he can’t control God,
Or guarantee you’ll never be in a lurch?
How are you going to screw me?
Ask: When you loan to a fellow,
Will he say he might not pay back,
And make your capital fallow?
How are you going to screw me?
Ask: When you elect statists,
Will they say they’re not helpers,
Of victims, but rapists?
How are you going to screw me?
Ask: Of educators in your school,
Will they ask you to ask this question,
To prevent, not make, being fool?
How are you going to screw me?
Ask: The practical poet of this ditty,
And he’ll confess he cruelly exaggerates,
To show self-interest costs plenty.
How are you going to screw me?
Ask: The sly news-entertainment cabal,
Will they confess they oft are liars,
Making spiritual-mental slaves all?
How are you going to screw me?
Ask: The seers selling their sight wares,
Will they say, In the mind battle,
Truth screws lies to rid souls of tares?
A Day of Rest, In That Day
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/25/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
A day of rest,
Or day of zest,
It’s all,
The same to me.
Trying to help,
The blind to see,
In That Day,
Of infamy!
A day of rest,
Or a day of zest,
I ask who,
Has soul steady?
Who, In That Day,
Of God’s wrath,
And light,
Cares to really be?
Who, In That Day,
Is getting free?
Those only,
With eyes to see!
God! Help the,
Sighted blind,
Unmindful,
Mind: to be!
The Trouble with Exceptionalism
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/28/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
America is a country founded,
On republic principles true and free,
It makes the country exceptional,
Which causes trouble for you and me.
Exceptionalism won’t work,
For the modern relativist man,
Who disbelieves good or evil,
In the dead or still able to stand.
Exceptionalism is particularly,
Hard to take,
If you must honor one with whom,
Bread you break.
Exceptionalism, like Christ-indwelling,
Reveals pride in beholders all,
When we can’t honor whom honor is due,
But join the lesser cabal.
The lesser cabal has pre-figured conditions all,
Pre-figured out on the hoof,
Disconnected from man, God and man-in-God,
Ever desolate, bereft, aloof.
Ever wrong are hypocrite absolutists who,
Can’t live with what is or has been ever right,
Confused, conflicted, blinkered, even hooded,
Are proud good-deniers in much need of light.
Have Faith
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/28/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Have faith,
In what you do,
As you,
Do what is true.
Big or little,
Growing heaven’s the game.
Have faith,
In truly, truly,
It is,
Your duty, duty.
Expanding heaven,
Is now become your name.
My Royal Oil of Enlightenment
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 9/30/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I am your crypto-tribal king,
Prostrate! And kiss my ring!
I am loyal and deferent to my own,
Give! All you’ve got to my throne!
As your king, I give whom I deign worthy perks,
Agree, agree, agree! How now a republic works!
And I eat my enemy’s flesh,
All who don’t with me mesh!
I am smarter than you by virtue of my lordly gilded chair,
Obey, obey, obey! Because I prodigalize with much care!
I care to teach you: To my persona be loyal,
And you might earn a drop of my royal oil!
My royal oil fixes quagmires in your brain,
Like rights unalienable you thought remain!
Au contraire, the noblest modern achievement for mankind,
Is to allege your soul to mystic tyranny and tribalism divine!
I AM your mesmerizing tribal chief, mystic tyranny entwined,
No better god on earth will you in life be ever blessed to find!
Abandon hope, all ye who enter this New Old Age,
Better yet reason, and you’ll be the king’s own sage!
Or jester, as king I claim: It really matters not which,
When history’s greats for pissants have been switched!
Bills of Attainder Explain the Spiritually Blind
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/1/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Listen, oh you who want to truly see,
Of this story from wisdom’s lonely tree.
As a bill of attainder removes inheritances and rank,
Through corruption of blood,
Belief in wrong doctrines removes sight and sense,
Through disconnection above.
Do you want to truly see beyond sight?
Then believe, believe doctrines right!
Now bills of attainder are outlawed,
In most lands,
But blindness born of wrong doxie,
Justice demands.
Proud of wrong doctrines maintained?
Escape from blindness won’t be gained.
A bill of attainder was legislative punishment,
Made after a crime,
Spiritual blindness is just treatment due to pride,
And puerility’s grime.
Is your family unsighted?
Is their doctrine blighted?
Oh God, release the souls now stuck,
In Satan’s various depravities,
And grow their souls in maturity,
And humble precepts’ verities.
Shall the one-eyed lord themselves over crowds blind and bad-doctrine strong?
No, we shall pray for spiritual eyes for all to get victory over self’s own wrong.
Bills of attainder wiped out wherewithal,
Of the indicted and family,
Spiritual blindness, in fact, does no less,
Now on earth and eternity.
God, if you give us sight then why?
Why, if we can’t help beloved nigh?
The gift of sight and requisite humility,
Is better than gold,
Both must be used in mature wisdom,
To bring in God’s fold.
The Holy Can-Can vs. the Unjust Can’t-Can’t
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/1/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Oft in spirit matters:
What can’t in the future ever happen,
Can’t have ever in the past happened,
But what can in the future happen,
Can be what forever,
Once has.
Thus nukes blown in anger,
Pastors revealed as raptor,
Or government as captor,
Can now be happening again.
While Martians landing,
Truth not standing,
Or lies countermanding,
Truly can’t be…
Because in all,
Records of history,
There has never,
Been such,,
That ever,
Once was.
Further, no Mohammed,
And no Buddha, brother,
Has lived again, so in man,
They definitely shan’t!
But Jesus lived,
And again lives!
And no one should believe,
That now in us He can’t!
Thus we know what can happen,
Can happen again as before,
But what can’t happen is what,
Can’t have happened in lore.
So leave off what can’t,
Have happened and can’t today,
Sufficient is the challenge to believe,
What can have been again can be!
Spiritually,
What can’t,
Have been,
Can’t again,
But what,
Can, can!
And what is there to know of,
This wisdom so abbreviated?
No God-indwelling of wrong-doxied,
But God lives in the truth-satiated!
Thus:
God can live in those He can,
And can’t in those He can’t,
By our love of truth or lies,
He lives in us or shan’t!
When Times’ Ends Justify Means
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/3/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I tell you, oh sons of warriors,
Oh daughters of queens,
High wisdom, high knowledge,
Nah’ base, nor mean things.
A sudden comes to mortals: lo!
Modern yet rococo events,
When gross stupidity and darkness,
From mankind is violent rent.
I’m speaking of the Twenty-First Century,
Not a prehistoric, forgotten time long past,
But when a blind, bipolar, aureate culture,
Unbenownst: swapped evil for good mask.
A pernicious darkness covers the land,
And gross darkness people’s animating spirit,
Such that precious few Truth can hear,
Whereas: multitudes can in no ways bear it!
Even now, if a little mouse of truth,
Enters the common room,
The cult of brain-washed, rigid correct,
Reaches for stick or broom!
The solution, my brothers and sisters,
Is to embrace what will come,
Gargantuan rodent catastrophes,
Big enough to get lies undone.
So, I asked our true God,
What it will actually take,
To make brains one-eighty,
How much shake to shake?
Me heard, me thinks, nay: me surely knows,
And knows full well,
To improve this planet’s thinking must come,
Nothing short of hell.
Nothing short of hell it will take,
To get the job done,
Of changing nations of lie-lovers,
To loving right as one.
Oh, sons of great warriors,
Daughters of fairest queens,
When God teaches global truth,
His ends justify means.
No mortal can justify all actions,
To satisfy ends,
But we must fear our holy God,
And His holy whims.
The cause of God is to bring,
Heaven, in fact, down to earth,
He’ll let us raise up all hell,
To change our soul’s worth.
For now if the few wise souls among us,
Were allowed to be in charge,
Defenestrated! they’d be by the mob,
That preys to have hell enlarged.
God, in His wisdom, will let us keep raising up hell,
And that is the point, it is what we now have,
And what we have, will prove profound truths well,
To put Truth in souls! and on eyes, eye salve!
Yes, hell come now,
Or coming soon,
In the end, when gone,
Will be man’s boon.
And man and the nations,
Will be exceptional,
At one with each other,
In liberty, with God well.
Yes, it will come down to liberty,
Liberty and love,
Mutual, dedicated self-restraint,
Come from above.
Again: What will make this heaven? Aye, now!
The rub is: It’ll be made by hell,
Brave warriors, dear queens: Survive it,
Our lads and lasses shall fare well!
I Dreamt I was Moses
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/4/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I dreamt I was Moses,
While sleeping in my room,
God said, What you need,
Is Pharaoh as buffoon!
A wise one won’t do now,
The foolish would revolt,
You need a real grandiloquent,
To give this world a jolt!
Pray for your fool-king,
Whose head, not heart, I hardened,
Pray for your sad world,
For century has not hearkened…
For over a hundred years,
Satan’s plan has been in full effect,
Controlling school and culture,
Making the mind of thought a wreck.
Behold, now fool as king,
With empowered school-culture desires!
Learn, oh earth, mad it is,
Loving lies’ result: foul, destroying fires!
I dreamt that I was ancient Moses,
I awoke with my shirt soaked in sweat,
God said, Fools shall fix indurate,
By their mistakes, love of hard truths yet!
What the Prophets of Profit Say
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/4/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Rapture prophets say,
Doom is nigh,
But before you fly,
My book buy!
Prosperity prophets say,
Big riches are neigh,
But before things you buy,
Sow seed to my lie!
Statist prophets say,
You may be poor now,
Find money somehow,
That we tax it, Pow!
Entertainer prophets say,
Things are surely a mess,
Buy my verse, song or ticket,
To forget your wretchedness!
“He’s coming!” prophets say,
Well, He ain’t come yet,
Nevertheless, pay me now,
And support my bet!
The poor prophets say,
Truth is now,
And God is truth,
Just see how…
See the ultimate,
Con of all our ages,
Today’s page a lie,
Foretelling more pages.
Disrespecting, rejecting,
God and truth come in man,
Conning prophets supplying,
All else to misunderstand.
The low road,
To riches is populated,
With dumb lies,
And gullible doom-fated.
Come ye, all,
To the high road of God-indwelling,
The air: clean,
And charged with I-AM-no-selling!
What Contrite-in-Spirit Prophets Sell
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/5/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
And what would poor-in-spirit,
Humble prophets sell?
The same that wise folk,
Might to you ever tell…
With self-restraint,
Be thou strong,
With life’s conn’ers,
Do not belong…
Be true, be kind,
Be good with love,
Do this man, woman,
Be thou above…
Be thou indwelt,
With all things good,
God thus in you,
With: all He should!
He should and He could,
But with most He can’t,
Because when it comes to it,
Most folk say, I shan’t!
True prophets can say and see,
God is come now!
Prophets for profit can see,
No God now how!
Is man in God,
And God in man?
Answer yourself,
Now or when again?
Then, is that all there is?
You might as well ask,
Calibrate indwelling,
That’s our great task!
Low-Hanging Fruit
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/5/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I paid one hundred-fifty dollars,
To pick me some fruit,
At Rapture-Me-Farms, but worms,
In the fruit made the point moot!
So I paid five hundred dollars,
To pick me a ripe melon,
At Prosper-Me-Swamp, but maggots,
Spoilt the melons a-sellin’!
So I paid a thousand bucks,
To buy me some beef on the hoof,
At End-Times-Ranch, but cancer,
Was taking each cow like a wolf.!
So I paid ten million dollars,
To buy me some prophetic lands,
To sell something to others! But,
Others had robbed my customers’ hands!
So I went home and saw in my yard,
A tree in the back had littered the ground,
With pears! Which my two dogs ate,
And I thought, unbeknownst, I had fruit profound!
Let this sad tale of low-hanging fruit,
Settle deep within,
A billion dollar industry takes away awareness,
Of true God-bearing!
Is God’s return,
Based upon money?
If that is true,
Then your God’s funny!
Pardon the harshness,
Of the previous line,
But the kingdom is or,
Isn’t: in you divine!
In you! Of course,
Is what I choose to see,
God, come quickly,
Living now: free in thee!
Once bolstered enough,
By God’s truth, faith and knowing,
Heaven on earth,
Shall keep growing and growing!
And sellers of rotten fruit,
Bad meat and worse,
Will go away sad,
Empty of purse!
Seeing Twenty Feet Below
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/14/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Twenty feet below the water,
I managed the boiler room,
Twenty feet below the water,
I made my ship to zoom!
But the captain hit an iceberg,
All hands but one died,
I thank God I’m a Christian,
I thank God I am alive!
Twenty feet below the water,
I worked the boiler of another ship,
But my next near-sighted captain,
Full speed, into another berg ripped!
Again, in freezing water,
I had to plunge,
Pledging near-sighted captains,
I would expunge!
But when I got another job,
Twenty feet below,
The captain hit a tanker,
Causing us to blow!
Fire consumed everything,
Know not how I lived,
All I know now is,
Life is such a gift!
Twenty feet below the water,
Is not the place to be,
When captains of the ships,
Are blind and cannot see!
So you want to be a captain?
Said the Lord of the ships,
My captains are crazy cowboys,
Shooting from their hips!
Why don’t you stay on land,
And manage my farms,
My captains run into things,
Causing insufferable harms.
Twenty feet above the ground,
Now I harvest much fruit,
Tall trees loaded with abundance,
I’ve never seen such loot!
The sad thing is,
We take the fruit to the docks,
And load up ships,
That will sink, burn or be lost!
Such is life today,
All around the planet,
With cosmic captains who,
Fix themselves cannot.
The Lord of field and sea,
Lets the captains fail,
Until their pride is overturned,
And they see and wail.
For until they fail they,
Cannot see,
So the Lord in wisdom,
Let’s them be!
The seeing are therefore cursed,
‘Cause they see too early,
God protects their precious minds,
For he loves them dearly.
But captains are still powerful,
Crazy though they be,
If not sailing ever madly,
They kill all who see.
Therefore seers must now: be still,
Seers must now: be quiet!
For the world’s ultimate good,
The blind now rule and riot!
Surviving the Ignorant Uncorrectables
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/16/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Sad to say,
And it gives me no pleasure,
Some leaders,
This moment, this hour…
Ignorant of yesterday’s blood-sacrifice lessons,
Ignorant of ancient time-tested truths,
Ignorant of how great-indwelt of God man can be,
Proclaiming famed intellect is their ruse.
Until mugged, the mugger’s great champion,
Until enslaved, the slave shackler,
Until humbled by man, God and Devil,
The cause of epic human disaster.
The deniers of the greatest revelation,
That God lives in man, His creation,
The propagandist of the greatest lie,
Survival of fittest means others must die.
Unenlightened, ignorant uncorrectables must live,
All lesser others must die?
That the indwelt of good depopulate earth themselves,
And never ask why?
The ignorant uncorrectables,
Have an amazing blandishment trick,
They, being deceived, deceive well,
Diseasing multitudes yet appearing not sick.
Ages come,
And ages go,
Fiat paper worthless,
Gold always gold.
Why rail against darkness,
When gross darkness has completely now come?
Batten down the hatches,
Behold, oh world: Job’s unavoidable storm!
Not to prove you or I are right,
Or that the uncorrectables are wrong,
But that in self-restraint is liberty,
A lesson seven billion must learn strong.
Even if just half of the people of the world,
Believed in Lincoln’s, Jefferson’s and Moses’ precept,
Mutual dedication to self-restraint,
Then in liberty man would have his best days yet.
But first the mad uncorrectables,
Must rule and ruin their aureate roost,
To disabuse the world of lies,
And give peace on earth its best boost.
Sanctimony dies hard,
Lies die harder,
But not all death is vain,
Truth lives farther.
Changing Your Entrance
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/17/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Want to change the entrance,
To your home?
Forgive, forgive, forgive,
Leave vengeance alone!
Be soft, soft, soft,
In life’s hard troubles,
Break up, bust, burst,
Ego’s old bubbles.
Sing Hallelujah,
The swaying tree thus does live,
Stiff-necked rigid,
Dead-dry branches cannot give.
If you thus change doors,
To your home’s entrance,
God comes inside to love,
Live, laugh and dance.
Okay, So It’s Broke
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/17/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Okay, so it’s broke:
Western Christian religion.
Okay, so it’s broke:
Politics corrupting each region.
Okay, so it’s broke:
News-media in one deceiving fusion.
Okay, so it’s broke:
Politically correct education confusion.
Okay, so it’s broke:
People debased by various drugs’ illusion.
Okay, so it’s broke:
What might be, we ask, the solution?
Then, how about:
Western civilization’s enlightenment!
Then, how about:
Constitutional three-part government!
Then, how about:
Abstract wisdom of the ages against problems present!
Then, how about:
Deceptive demagoguery with sword of truth rent!
Then, how about:
Finite issues ameliorated by great minds’ past achievement!
Then, how about:
Admitting: by ignoring history, we have much to repent!
Then, how about:
Seeing: we need not utopian perfection, but fix what’s bent!
Then, how about:
We leave our progeny a world with much less dent!
Then, how about:
Mutual dedication to self-restraint to patch liberty’s tent!
Then, how about:
We do this now, that our seed never ask where good went!
Then, how about:
Humble reverence to each ancient Western Enlightenment hint!
Then, how about:
Ours, the greatest renaissance stint!
Then, how about:
This ethereal love on true ascent!
Soft of Heart, Strong of Head
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/19/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
We came o’er the mountains,
We came across the plain,
Back in Eighteen-eighty,
To be born again!
We came to a wild West,
The land of stories told!
We came to raise up families,
To grow rich and old!
Every man among us,
Was wholesome: a man,
Soft of heart, strong of head,
Able to take a stand.
We had repeatin’ rifles,
Each a revolver gun,
A knife or two about himself,
Ready for night or sun.
Most all made heaven,
A hundred years ago,
Now we see our progeny,
When lookin’ down below.
Not one man has rifle,
Not one a holstered gun,
Nor even knife in pocket,
Each not so great grandson.
Maybe something in a safe,
Where it can’t be employed,
In the out and about,
Where life is enjoyed!
We see from heaven in the soul,
What is wrong with man,
His head is soft, heart: hard,
He can’t say: No to ma’am.
His approval comes not,
From things of true worth,
He adopts his queen’s fear,
A man: a man from birth!
There ought to be a law,
Against gelding so thorough,
The tools we carried then,
Made character grow and grow!
The queens of fear today,
Have done the unspeakable,
To men from death to birth,
And wrecked the un-wreckable.
Hemlock and wormwood,
Has been cast upon man,
Western values ruined,
By queens of fear brigand.
Not all females have fear,
Not all men: obsequies,
But on the whole manhood,
Has been cursed, not blessed.
Now, men are weapon’d up overseas,
To fight the Taliban,
Returned home and then gelded,
Never to fight again.
Never to hold their moral ground,
At home, only abroad,
Truth is truth only: beyond shores,
Obey queen fear, not God!
That’s their thinking, anyways,
Exactly heaven’s reverse,
Heaven asks her Western children,
Wake up! Change course!
Back in Eighteen-eighty,
When sleeping around the fire,
We posted guards to be,
At peace, we were not dire.
Queens of fear have put,
Manly virtue to sleep,
Despising true shepherds,
Making prey of sheep.
Queens of fear disbelieve true danger,
Taking from males what’s strong,
The biggest fear such queens have,
Is being just once proved wrong!
But wrong they are,
And wrong they ever be,
Genders have their roles,
Queens: queens, and kings: kingly.
Though it’s somewhat unmanly,
And against the rules of heaven,
At times we weep in open angst,
Beholding fearsome queens of leaven.
We pioneered the way of liberty,
We pioneered what with God is right,
Sons and daughters of our seed,
We weep! We wail! You give up without fight.
And, you lonely queens of virtue,
Who weep for lack of king,
Have faith, carry on, be true,
Sons of God shall rise again!
With the pioneer’s compass,
You virtuous can change the balance,
With moral sword and shield,
And white horse’s cavalry lance.
The Western spirit is not dead,
It e’er lives in legend and lore,
Prepare, prepare, oh virtuous,
God asks of you just this: more!
Bending with Life
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/21/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
If you’ve been chewed up,
Chewed up by life,
If you’ve had your share,
Your share of strife,
And you learned to bend,
To bend with life…
People might think your bruises,
Your bruises are proof,
That you are, they say, a scary,
A scary and foul brood,
By those in fear and opinion,
Opinion oft most rude.
But tutelary, perhaps, your saint,
Your saint loved your heart,
When God gave you your life,
Your life at birth’s start,
That bruising be maximized,
Maximized as great art.
God, you see, is a connoisseur,
A connoisseur of men’s souls,
And so are domestic animals,
Animals who love you untold,
But not the humans fearful,
Humans fearful by Satan enrolled.
For the fearful fear the completed,
Completed by God as evil,
And see your bruised-bought goodness,
Goodness: as born of the Devil,
But we must love them as they fear,
Fear: until God burns their stubble.
And if they’re lucky, they’ll be chewed up,
Chewed up by life,
And if they’re lucky, they’ll have their share,
Their share of strife,
And if they’re lucky, they’ll learn to bend,
To bend with life.
Or they won’t in their rigidness ever learn,
Learn in humility to love the bruised.
The bruised whom they mocked in error,
Error: not knowing how to be used,
They therefore sadly miscomprehend,
Miscomprehend: how fate is diffused.
That if they’re blessed, they’ll be chewed up,
Chewed up by life,
That if they’re blessed, they’ll have their share,
Their share of strife,
That if they’re blessed, they’ll learn to bend,
To bend with life.
Bottle Rockets to Nowhere
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/22/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I saw a group of scientists,
In an amphitheater room,
Designing rockets they were,
To blast to the moon.
I assembled my film crew,
For this did they my company hire,
To record for forever,
Their steps to heaven from the mire.
Surprised I was when I saw,
Their plain ingredients,
Just water and compressed air,
To get man heaven-sent.
You must be kidding!
I proclaimed to a bespectacled bloke,
No sir, we are not,
Water and compressed air is no joke!
It will truly blast man from earth to low orbit,
And beyond to the moon!
I said, I played with bottle rockets when young,
Are you a buffoon?
Our bottle rockets shall go,
Eighteen, nay twenty-five thousand miles an hour!
On compressed air and water?
How on earth shall they get gravity-freeing power?
Watch and see, oh skeptic,
Was what he said to me,
I set up the camera film crew,
To see what would actually be.
Their twenty-story rocket,
Was something to behold,
But its blast moved it not,
But watered every soul.
Victory! Hurray! Eureka!
Each wet scientist yelled with glee,
Did you capture it on film?
Did your crew preserve us in history?
I sadly told them,
My crew and cameras captured nothing,
Nothing but a soaking,
We came expecting Atlas, but got a token.
Finally they did admit,
Something was amiss,
Next we’ll use colored water!
That shall be our twist!
I said, Just build yourself a rocket,
Like the Atlas used in Nineteen sixty-nine,
On its mission to and fro the moon,
A giant leap, it was, for all mankind!
Nay, nay! They said,
You are a heretic with spoilt eyes,
They fired me and my crew,
That others would agree with their surmise.
Last I heard their broadcast business,
Of filming bottle rockets to nowhere,
Takes in a couple ten billion dollars,
From donors thrilled to be soaked unaware.
Unaware, and glad unawares,
Are the donors to madcap bottle rocket schemes,
Who don’t learn or live history,
But pay tithes to confirm escape-earth dreams.
Is this a tale of erring scientists,
Or deluded Christian broadcasters?
Let the reader be undeterred,
Escapists must escape: unobserved!
GOLLY!
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/24/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
There once was a,
Bad king clever,
Who thought ill of,
Himself never!
When critics observed,
His fey-doings,
He said he was a boy,
To critics proving:
The critics were kings with: no clothes!
To which we say: GOLLY!
There once was an abolitionist,
Who freed the slaves,
This great man, Abraham Lincoln,
Taught lesser knaves…
Great truths and magnanimous,
Overarching, kind love for all,
But progressives teach minorities,
To depend on a governing cabal.
The progressives say such slavery is: freedom!
To which we say: GOLLY!
Our universities once taught,
Western Enlightenment’s hard truths,
That the world is dangerous,
Strong precepts protect the weak from abuse.
But media, church, government,
Business and antipodal education,
Mandate certain abuses be popular,
Less weak minds see subjugation.
The empowered say their might, in their case, makes: right!
To which we say: GOLLY!
The greatest political sentence to ennoble and uplift,
Was by Thomas Jefferson written,
It says all men are created equal, and certain rights,
Unalienable from them can’t be smitten.
But today’s leaders from which that same,
Declaration of Independence was born,
Saddle trillions of dollars of debt on those,
If not aborted, shall freedom’s loss mourn.
The statist enslavers say they are making a great: utopia!
To which we say: GOLLY!
If being reduced to ignorance,
And believing manifold slavery,
Is a long-sought nirvana,
And opposition: foul knavery.
And if seeing truth,
Causes shepherds agitation,
And hopes must be dashed,
To keep overlords in station.
Because, they say, our Founding Fathers are: dead!
To which we say: GOLLY!
They say Lincoln is dead,
So is Thomas Jefferson,
So is Moses and Jesus,
And George Washington.
Deader than nails,
They all be,
Inconvenient lives,
In history.
Because, they say, political correctness rules: forever!
To which we say: GOLLY!
They say you cannot complain,
You can’t revolt,
It’s insuperable. You can’t run,
You can’t bolt.
And we, the people, say,
Maybe you are right,
But back in the day, we,
Gave King George a fight.
We, the people, say our blood fought and died for: liberty!
Mystic tyrants said and shall say again: GOLLY!
Don’t threaten violence,
They say, you’re on our watch list,
Bend over, take it,
You’re just nothing but our mill’s grist.
How dare you believe,
In natural law,
We killed all such,
In us: be in awe.
We, the people, say we pledge allegiance to: justice and liberty!
Mystic tyrants lose against truth and shall say: GOLLY!
How can you win,
When we’ve got the power?
We own broadcast,
Every second and hour.
Pooh on the internet,
Pooh on your blogs,
We are contented,
In-power, slop hogs.
We, the people, say we are perfected in: great liberty!
Mystic tyrants lose in the end and shall say: GOLLY!
Fear’s Political Evangelists
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/25/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Politically speaking,
What is your own religion?
Do right: Feel good,
Do bad: Feel bad; was Lincoln’s.
But do you rather feel somehow,
The world’s resources are limited?
Or: the greatest revelation,
God lives in man uninhibited?
If the former,
Your bottom-line foundational lie,
Survival of the fittest,
Means lesser others must, well, die.
If the latter,
Glory hallelu!
God is in me,
And also in you!
If He can live in us,
Then also seven billion,
Seven billion synchronized,
To get along willin’!
But if the former,
Don’t be fear’s perfect evangelist,
Recruiting others,
For the world’s paramount curse.
An exterminator among men,
Is the master ideal,
Teaching others limits,
Employing death’s deal.
Death to the realists,
Who won’t evangelize,
The world has limits,
Death being their prize.
Death, by such calculus, comes to all,
To all dummies who don’t know,
The world has Darwinian life-limits,
But who, pray tell, told them so?
Not our God,
Who lives in man,
Limitless,
The great I AM!
Who says who will live?
Who says who will die?
God wishes it be said,
By not you, not I.
I Invented a Flying Bullet
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/25/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I invented a flying bullet,
Because I read Darwin,
Survival of the fittest,
Means some lose, some win.
I wanted to be the absolute fittest,
In the land,
And that’s the one with flying bullets,
At his command.
My flying bullets fly out,
From my mounted gun,
Pointed to the heavens,
Their flight just begun.
Silent as a specter,
My flying bullets fly,
Each one appointed,
For someone else to die.
So from my thousand-acre ranch,
In Montana,
I decided to help Darwin’s man,
Reach nirvana.
First to go were Muslims,
Who cause such a trouble,
Then, of course, the Jews,
And that was just a bubble!
Then the Chinese,
They were starving anyway,
And the Africans,
Who had no money to pay.
You see, I asked for tribute,
From those who wanted to live,
But after a while I took it all,
Earth had nothing left to give.
I am the last man standing,
Darwin would be proud,
I am the fittest person!
I shout out loud.
But that’s the problem,
No one but me hears,
I have read Darwin wrong,
I’m alone, in fears!
And then I awoke,
From my dark, horrid dream,
There is no flying bullet,
No horrid Darwin scheme.
Or is there? Out in our popular culture,
That is hell-bent on personal limits,
And madman, mad-scheme enforcement,
And death-barbs to death’s critics.
Aye, there are flying bullets,
In analogy!
Wrong doctrines empowered,
Kill what’s lovely.
Well-wishing good on you,
Isn’t allowed,
If fear of limits consume,
Thoughts wrong-bowed.
Thoughts of mistrust and hate,
In the popular culture pate,
That anyone not you or great,
Must therefore self-eliminate.
Good God! This is hell on earth!
Have mercy on our souls,
Flying bullets of death would be bad,
Worse still: unloving trolls.
Let there be light!
That love be renewed,
False doctrines die,
That hate be eschewed.
Enough with flying bullets!
Enough with current liberal trends!
Love comes not from right or left,
But from center, where love amends!
Patience is love,
And love is patience,
God have mercy,
Help us: make sense!
Let us make sense,
Of what it is we are here to do,
Love God and man,
Or be judge and executioner, too?
You might say you don’t judge,
And, of course, say the same might I,
But if this is really true,
Why is there so much hate, oh why?
Why are people considered,
A bother and a blame,
And new babies a nuisance?
We’re not glad they came?
We’re here, and we need love,
Not the next?
We must love each other,
Or be vexed.
Each person on earth,
Can have God inside him,
Do we really want to kill,
Who God might be in?
Rather limited thinkers,
This depopulation lot,
Knowing not how God lives,
In whom they cannot spot.
Scary is as Scary Does
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/26/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Oh daughter Diana,
Let your mother, Demeana,
Tell how to dominate,
The earth and its men, Ha!
When a man sees your evil,
Shout: He is scary!
Men will lock him up,
And of you be wary.
If any woman sees your ruse,
Shout: She’s like a scary man!
Men and women will lock her up,
And of you be wary, again!
Honestly, people are so blind-stupid,
Scary is like beating a dead horse,
Because when it stops working magic,
We’ll use another word, of course.
But for us, for now,
Scary is the word that will do,
God or else Satan,
Gave it to us to kill logic and truth.
We can do what we want,
With any gender,
With word scary in quiver,
Most all surrender!
Forget justice, forget liberty,
Forget even truth,
We’ve got scary power, daughter,
Fear’s our vermouth!
Yes, our mantra is fear,
And the delightful word scary,
Who sees our gambit?
The world is our cherry!
No Superman, no James Bond,
No Churchill can stop us,
We have all Kryptonite power,
With scary, none top us!
Scary, scary, scary!
God, I love that sound!
Oops, I’m going quite mad,
Fear has me bound!
Oh daughter, forgive me,
I was wrong,
Forgive me! Have courage,
And be strong!
Have courage and be strong,
Correct my foul deed,
Teach the world my tricksterism,
Love truth, truth redeem!
Truth beats scary,
It beats it well,
Learn that from me,
And how I fell.
Here’s the Deal on In That Day Teaching Poems
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/26/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Isaiah 28
I salute you if…
If you can read this,
If you can need this,
If you can breed this,
…these In That Day teaching poems!
I give here to you…
Not entertainment, but,
Something heaven-sent,
Even so: enlightenment,
…these In That Day teaching tomes!
These lines, precepts…
Bouncing to and fro,
Adding what you know,
Foundation doxies grow,
…multiplying greatly: whole soul sums!
A world view…
Rare found,
Yet profound,
Rather unbound,
…and in God so free!
Here a little, there a little…
As prophet Isaiah,
Or Paul’s Way: ah,
Even what say I: ah,
…not in part, but wholly!
I salute you, if you…
See in here gold,
Ancient paths old,
Rediscovered bold,
…God’s own verily, verily!
As a boy I was…
So much lost,
At such a cost,
My life mocked,
…not knowing how to be!
Learn from my sadness…
What’s missing is here,
Like a really good beer,
Funny, yet oddly sincere,
…God’s retold great mystery!
God in true movement…
Not what you bought,
Not what you thought,
But Someone you’ve got,
…in you, Hallelu, holler: I see!
I see said the God head…
The Father,
And the Son,
And Holy Spirit,
…wed, in bed, in true spirit, with thee!
Is it really that easy…
You nearly ripe full,
Yes, you archetypical,
Come, oh missing disciple,
…In That Day, in time, in history!
Not All are Ossified
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/27/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Isaiah 28
Not all are ossified,
Not all are stuck,
Not all live life,
In the same rut.
So many play their life’s record,
Locked in deep groove,
Others jump track, change tune,
Get up and move!
Life is movement!
So is breath,
So, move and breathe!
Before death.
Who says you can’t,
Fix what’s broke?
You can be a much,
Better bloke!
Or blokess!
That made you laugh?
Ladies, gents: Change water,
In the old bath.
Bathe yourself in God’s love,
In song, in story, in dance,
Love conquers all, God’s partners,
This is your last chance!
Last chance to change,
The train is leaving the station,
Will you hop on?
God isn’t finished with creation.
That’d be you,
Oh ascendant, transcendent soul,
Un-ossify!
Petrification isn’t a beauty mole!
Renovation Sows
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/27/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Born of a railroad, born of fights,
This is Reno,
Born of divorce and gambling nights,
This is Reno.
Desert city, yet near gleaming lakes,
And it snows,
Cold winters, hot summers, zephyr shakes,
And it snows.
Economy smashes, hope dashes,
Yet Reno grows,
Tracts retract, what crashes, crashes,
Yet Reno grows.
The biggest little city in the world,
Bends at blows,
The world dismisses this marvel that,
Bends at blows.
An underdog can lose every battle, but win the war,
Heaven knows,
The flexible, unbeaten dog teaches tomorrow’s spar,
Heaven knows.
Sure, Reno, it seems, is almost always error-headed,
Near to woe,
But that’s where peace’s needle in tribulation: threaded,
Near to woe.
What’s next, then, for woe-be-often, little-that’s-big Reno?
Restoration flow,
Like the Truckee, fed by Tahoe, drink soul-deep: oh Reno,
Restoration flow.
A libertarian lot that legalizes known but minor vices,
Reno knows,
Can birth liberty’s best, truest and surprising devices,
Reno knows.
Watch, oh world, who, what and just wherein,
Reno goes,
Mocking world, don’t discount the forbearing,
Reno goes.
Let enemies and devils win popular overt wars,
Reno flows,
As man and God, oft unseen, in the covert soars,
Reno flows.
We speak now of city or mankind’s best,
Renovation sows,
The undaunted, scarred but matured crest,
Renovation sows.
Life is a Double-Flowing Hourglass
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/29/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
We are oft like the ancient mariner,
Struggling for redemption
Stuck tight at penury hourglass neck,
Finding no exemption.
The hourglass’ shape,
Shapes our experience,
Skinny in the middle,
Stuck fast in rigidness.
We start at the wide base,
Wide in foul proclivity,
Free to do evil things,
Until moving to rigidity.
We move up in the hourglass,
Constrained by righteous commandment,
Unaware rigid rules have a way,
Of blocking God’s highest refinement.
Pride lives in that choking bottleneck,
Where the hourglass sand slows its descent,
In humility: maturity,
We hope to escalade where saints are sent.
Up we go to wide place of movement,
Flexible and free,
Breaking rules as holy God allows,
Free in liberty.
How the rigid righteous,
Hate the flexible and free!
Making bottlenecks tighter,
Hoping no saints can see!
The rigid prideful in religion,
Killed Christ upon the cross,
For being holy, kind and flexible,
And not letting them be boss!
Thus, they killed the prophets,
Thus, life seems a loss,
Have faith, be still, love God,
Lose the albatross!
Like ancient mariner,
You will suddenly see,
Love! Love the unredeemed,
Love everything! Be free!
But watch your back!
And the others in the upper hourglass!
Your sacrifice,
Must come at God’s time, not too fast!
No, it’s not all kicks and giggles,
Sometimes it’s heavy as lead,
It’s the cost of soaring as an eagle,
When with Christ you’re wed.
But rigid leaders stuck in the middle,
Don’t see it that way,
They want to break hourglass in half,
To stop God’s belay!
But they can’t break the hourglass,
So they’ll try to break you,
And you will want to break them,
But this you shouldn’t do.
Just be the best person,
In flexibility, love your holy, at-risk plight,
And others will follow,
Realizing: God-in-man is what’s right.
Love! Love is the key,
Someday more will break through,
To holy flexibility,
When In That Day is due.
Life is a double-flowing hourglass,
Ascend to holy, flexible top!
Don’t get stuck in rigid, religious pride,
Before your righteous time runs out!
Bullets in the By
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/29/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
The soldier shooting bullets asks:
Am I a leaf on the wind,
Or wind to the leaf?
Am I destiny’s child,
Or is there relief?
When bullets fly back,
The other way,
The soldier will pray,
Stop him, I say!
Both soldiers pray,
To kill each other,
God hears all prayers,
For Him, no bother.
Whose prayers are answered,
In That Day?
Some are, some not: in God’s,
Inscrutable way.
Sometimes a bullet received,
Might be actually nice,
To prevent a post-bellum,
Irredeemable vice.
So the best each soldier,
In or out of God can do,
Is soldier best and,
To himself and cause be true.
Listen,
Soldiers facing each other in war,
Be still,
Don’t dwell overmuch on what for.
You might ask yourself,
To hard truths self-evident,
Of history’s love lessons,
Am I true in consequence?
A time for war,
A time for peace,
Live long enough,
You will have each.
But love in war!
Love in peace!
Strike in kindness!
Hug in reach!
The loving warrior,
Is rather ideal,
A real peacemaker,
Poet in heart: real.
In war’s crucible,
Even in life’s dreary struggle,
Brave hearts are born,
You can’t stop bullets, it’s futile.
Bullets come, bullets go,
Don’t ask why,
Behold what light is born,
In the by.
Aye! There’s the Rub!
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 10/30/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
So, upheaval is coming,
It can’t be stopped,
Those that see it coming,
Have been blocked.
Why give the seers sight,
If it’s for naught?
Aye! There’s the rub!
There’s more than thought…
This upheaval coming,
Is a gift from God,
It’s to teach a lesson,
To the unwilling mob…
That has stuck to its guns,
Its guns of wrong doxie,
Aye! There’s the rub!
Foul guns of proud moxie.
Take broadcast Christianity,
With popular doctrines of error,
It’ll be much realigned,
With Western Enlightenment fare…
Which is much fairer,
To all concerned,
Aye! There’s the rub!
Sheep: no longer burned.
Sheep shall no longer be suckered,
By fey prosperity,
Neuro-Linguistic tricksterism used,
By brazen, loud carny.
No more pulling wool over eyes,
Of gullible sheep,
Aye! Aye! Aye! There’s the rub!
No brains put to sleep.
When brains are taught,
Western Enlightenment context,
Citizen-sheep outsmart,
Fey politicians with shenanigan hex.
But now Christian Broadcast,
Works hand-in-glove as a vex,
Aye! Aye! Aye! There’s the rub!
That other wolves eat sheep next!
Wolves of government, wolves of business,
Easily outwit, outstrip masses,
Taught by wolf educators, wolf commentators,
Tyrannical, mystical dumb asses.
Dumb leaders destroying,
Twenty-five centuries of thought,
Aye! Aye! Aye! There’s the rub!
Because lies! Lies they have bought.
What are these lies,
Hidden from sight?
That our culture isn’t wrong?
That ancients weren’t right?
And survival of fittest,
Means that others must die?
Aye! Aye! Aye! There’s the rub!
No, God in you must thrive!
That God can and does live in you,
And come now in sudden surprise,
Is the overarching good of our history,
That we must fully now surmise.
And to work John Fourteen: Twenty,
Into mankind’s overly rigid soul,
Aye! Aye! Aye! And triple the rub!
Man must be flexible, holy and whole!
It’s the lesson of Job,
Finally understood,
Not rigid-righteousness,
Not hard, stubborn wood!
Prophet Elihu proclaimed the way,
God’s voice in story, yet humble,
Aye! Triple Aye! And quad the rub!
Honor such great ones, or stumble!
Unless you learn to say blessed is he, or she!
Who comes NOW! In the nature of the Lord,
Your brain, your soul, your house is desolate,
Your sight is like a home shuttered with board.
Unless you see Job’s rigid-leader pride,
Was the terrible, awful Leviathan beast,
Aye! Quad Aye! Even quintuple the rub!
You will make of coming upheaval: least!
What is the ossified lie about Job,
From the rigid-proud we must buy?
That believers inexplicably suffer,
And never on earth possibly know why?
No, in stubborn, stiff-necked rigidity,
The proud-righteous their God they defy,
Quintuple Aye! Quintuple the rub!
Post-trial: the flexible, saints-in-God fly!
So, we discern upheaval comes to the world,
Because improvement of character is overdue,
The world shall love Western Enlightenment,
And to its lines and precepts again be true.
Behold, how woe comes to wrong-doctrine man!
Here is the reason that these trials are seen,
Infinite Aye! Infinite rub!
That God can then live in him: doxie clean!
They Came in Peace
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/2/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Matthew 23:38-39
They came in peace,
They came from outer space,
They could’ve taken,
Or wiped out our whole race!
We come in peace,
But we are desperate,
Out of energy!
They told our planet.
We have been saving universes,
We have been saving worlds,
We’re out of gas, depleted,
Oh madams, oh sirs.
They were polite,
These short, green, large-headed creatures,
We asked them,
You seek precisely what features?
You want our oil or gas?
We’re almost out!
Or uranium or gold,
Or blood drawn out?
No, they said,
Our energy comes from different courses,
You don’t know?
Better energy than all known sources!
Who among you is humble, yet free?
Who is on course in lowly destiny?
We must bless them and in return,
God blesses us and helps us be!
It’s lonely out in space,
It’s lonely saving galaxies,
But blessing the meek humble,
Repairs all our maladies!
You didn’t know this?
We thought you were advanced!
We thought your best,
In time, with God danced!
We sadly will leave you then,
To your proud devices,
We’ve blessed your little ones,
Protect them from your vices!
We’re recharged with energy,
We’ve blessed your lowly,
Be careful proud planet!
That’s what they told me.
We came in peace,
But we leave in rebuke,
Stop deception!
Stop corruption! Just look!
Look at your,
Ancient wise ones,
On good path,
Your energized sons…
They could change minds,
For better without war,
You deceive your minds,
And we know what for.
For cheap truths, bad doctrines,
Unworkable here,
Unworkable in every planet known,
Undrinkable beer.
Planets like yours inevitably will get light,
One way or the other,
Your energy crashes planet into sun,
Or you love your brother!
We, with all our travel and knowledge,
Humble ourselves to bless God in you!
Learn, oh proud grandees of earth,
Stop praising fear and hating God imbued.
You love your bad,
Religious, political, education doxies,
They are the same,
Designed to keep God out, instead: proxies.
All civilized planets we visit,
Have in them wisdom of the age,
Some planets like yours implode,
Because they keep pride their sage.
At first you feared us,
Little, green, polite, wise spacemen,
Fear God and fear your pride!
Your planet’s energy will save or rend.
The most powerful force for good,
Blessing the meek with humble love,
The most powerful force for bad,
Pride and no fear of God above.
Oh Earth decide,
Decide your ride,
Good deride?
Or halt all pride.
We’ll know your decision,
From any distance,
We can feel God’s love,
And its absence.
One Hundred Years of Progressive Rule!
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/3/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
They cracked the code of liberty,
And made it a Rubik’s Cube,
Then wrapped it in a Gordian knot,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
They almost had victory in Depression,
Packing the Supreme Court with fools,
Hitler and Hito delayed half the plans of,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
Now seers see, but they see for naught,
Rulers are sold and bought as mere tools,
In the name of liberty, liberty belayed by,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
Would God we had a wise King George,
Who never burdened America’s unborn pool,
With abortion, poor house or deep angst of,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
Where is the dragon to slay, fire to quench,
Or central square statue to remove?
Our enemy: catch-less, invisible, dangerous to good,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
They’ve perfected political slavery unawares,
These knighted, empowered, barbaric ghouls,
Their fey wiles hidden from under-taught masses,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
My sons’ great, great grandfathers once lived,
Secure in liberty, America’s shining jewel,
My sons’ great, great grandsons can’t survive,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
Part of us has become enemy,
To our Founding Father’s good,
This cancer must be stopped, this,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
Shall it be violent? Shall it be peaceful?
It depends on truth abridged or pursued,
They’ve made down up so long, truth’s evil to,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
Shall it take a moment, movement or millennium,
To uncorrupt our three-legged government stool?
Or shall mystic tyrants kill liberty’s lovers with,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
Can love of liberty be kilt so quick,
In the breast of Americans long fooled?
Ignorance has beat intelligence, slavery: freedom with,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
As for me and my house, poor and impoverished as it be,
I cannot, cannot tolerate this long avoided duel,
Our Declaration of Independence shall beat the hell out of,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
Oh sons of America, daughters of freedom, lovers of liberty,
Rise up from stupor! If not us, then who will?
With the Declaration of Independence, beat the hell out of,
One hundred years of progressive rule!
Tell Me it’s Not True!
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/4/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Arnold, oh Arnold, oh Arnold,
Tell me, tell me, tell me it’s not true!
Seven dot two score years ago,
I was shot, not in head, but by cannon to you.
I wanted, you know, to go see California,
In the future,
So in capsule, in cannon: I went to space,
Returned now: sure!
I landed at night,
In Lake Tahoe’s refreshing cold water,
Un-hibernated,
Found Lincoln Highway, as I ought’er!
Got a ride to your capitol dome,
Sacramento!
With my black coat, tall hat, stopped by now,
To say hello!
But Arnold, oh Arnold, oh Arnold Schwarzenegger!
What’s this federal and state income tax?
And kowtow to union, green-earth, non-justice buggers?
Give these brigands a taste of Illinois ax!
You make me wish,
Old Robert E. Lee had won!
What in hell has,
Gone girly-man with you son?
Let’s roll up our sleeves,
Eleven dot seven score years ago,
Our forefathers brought forth,
What you forgot, but I know.
They brought forth liberty,
It is a word, I see, on your penny,
But liberty is worth nothing,
If you tax unto covert slavery.
Yes, Arnold, I was,
A great liberator,
Who has been liberty’s,
Invisible Terminator?
I’m not blaming you,
Nor do I blame time,
It’s man’s laziness,
And tendencies supine.
This state has led,
The invisible charge to consumptive ruin,
Call on my kind,
To right wrong as burly, invincible bruin!
I could have, you know,
Compromised with principles in my day,
I did not! Don’t you!
Resurrected A. Lincoln has little more to say.
But that I head now to Nevada,
The great silver state battle born,
For freedom needs be birthing,
Continually expanding! Or stillborn.
Arnold, your California gold,
In essence, is almost totally corrupted,
My spirit goes elsewhere,
Where liberty expands uninterrupted.
Skeptics, look at your penny,
Look at your wallet’s five-dollar bill,
The spirit of A. Lincoln,
Lives! It lives in you, if you only will.
I Have a Scheme!
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/5/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
My name is I-Have-a-Scheme,
And I am a demon!
Don’t underestimate me,
I am a real he-man!
When Satan let me out,
One hundred years ago,
My titanic assignment,
Too much to undergo!
First, scheme up education,
So students graduate blind-unaware,
Their teachers taught nothing,
And made students really not care!
Next, preachers must have a scheme,
So preachers make sheep unaware,
Their preachers preached nothing,
And made sheep really not care!
Next, politicians must have a scheme,
So politicians make voters unaware,
Their politicians did nothing,
And made voters really not care!
Now bankers rob the savers,
With their too-big-to-fail scheme,
Savers really don’t care,
They believe any pipe dream!
Satan is super pleased with demon,
Li’l lie-maker moi: I-Have-a-Scheme,
We’ve beat back God’s In That Day,
And its colossal enlightenment theme!
If people read, studied and believed,
Certain In That Day Teaching tomes,
Readers would see myriads of schemes,
And be rich in the heart of their homes!
But people just can’t believe,
Their preacher, teacher, newsman or idol star,
Are infilled with my scheming spirit,
They are me, I am them: that’s who we are!
My name is I-Have-a-Scheme,
Is that your name too?
Don’t bother with seers saying,
I’m hard to see through!
And one more thing,
In That Day, God lives in you but not in me,
God comes quickly,
In the scheme-free, In That Day, not with me!
Those in me, I-Have-a-Scheme,
Or taught by same,
Won’t have God in them freeing,
The scheme-taught lame.
The scheme-taught will buy,
Any scheming book,
Except In That Day’s kind,
On how to look.
My name is I-Have-a-Scheme,
Is that your name too?
Don’t bother with seers saying,
I’m hard to see through!
Be like me and your teachers,
You won’t be seen,
Get yourself rich off schemers!
Know what I mean?
My name is I-Have-a-Scheme,
Is that your name too?
Don’t bother with seers saying,
I’m hard to see through!
Washing of the Water with Poems
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/5/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Poems inane, poems so funny,
Poems far out,
Poems holy, poems irreligious,
Poems strike out.
Washing of the water,
Of what’s true in eternity,
Read: In That Day poems,
Until: Wow! Oh, Wow! I See!
Poems on In That Special Day,
Poems political,
Poems day in, between and out,
Often critical.
Why the poems, Robert?
Like manna every day!
Shall we read them, Robert?
Or throw them away!
Washing of the water,
Of what’s true in eternity,
Read: In That Day poems,
Until: Wow! Oh, Wow! I See!
Read the poems, beloved,
Laugh, weep or cry,
Read the poems, beloved,
But ask not why.
One In That Day, it’ll congeal,
With poems, poems, poems,
God in you-me He will reveal,
With poems, poems, poems.
Washing of the water,
Of what’s true in eternity,
Read: In That Day poems,
Until: Wow! Oh, Wow! I See!
How to Sell Hopes
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/5/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
You gotta’ sell hopes, hopes!
Joe said to me,
Giving three envelopes,
Kindly to me.
Khruschev, he said,
You’re going to have crisis,
I’m gone, you lead,
Here’s what my advice is.
Stalin died, I led,
Later came trouble,
Envelope One I opened,
On the double!
Hi, this is Uncle Joe,
Is what it said,
Blame me in crisis one,
Though I am dead.
It worked!
Somehow I made through,
But later!
Came, well, crisis two!
Envelope Two I opened,
Trying to be brave,
Blame me! Uncle Joe, again!
He said from the grave.
Wow! It worked like magic,
Oh lucky me,
Then! Then came last crisis,
Crisis three!
Shirt soaked with sweat,
Slowly I read Joe Stalin’s greatest letter,
It said, Dear Khrushchev,
Three envelopes prepare, you had better!
So, you gotta’ sell hopes,
As deceiving leader of your gullible sheep,
Then, blame previous blokes,
And make three letters that your next-in-line keep.
This is a wonderful wile,
A wile among many,
We deceivers keep secret,
To take all from any!
But if you know us deceivers,
By our fruit,
Then your fruit among others,
We can’t loot!
Why do we tell you this,
Our deception pathway?
The under-taught don’t care,
They are our slaves anyway!
But you say,
We’re taught! Now you can’t rule!
You believe?
So what, enough others we fool!
You’ll be true shepherds?
We’ve heard that before,
In fact, once thought I,
But power made me whore!
We mock In That Day,
And God’s revelation,
God in you? Who cares?
We’ll keep you in station.
Maybe you will,
Maybe you are right,
But does God lose,
When He’s in the fight?
Staunch the Flow of Unawareness
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/6/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
Staunch the flow of unawareness,
Close this wound that bleeds,
Detect patterns of closed mindedness,
Not sow more bleeding seeds.
Mega churches teach mega giving,
From poor folk to rich grandees,
Public schools teach compliant ones,
To love unquestioned public deeds.
Culture defines favored groups in whole,
To be perfect without doubt,
When, in fact, groups have three tiers,
Good, middle and bad to rout.
Then again, one group our blind culture,
Hates, in fact, entirely,
Any group that says, Staunch the flow,
That is, anyone who sees.
Anyone who sees,
This age’s dilemma is sight,
Anyone says, See?
Of course, cannot be right.
We let enemies roam for devious, self-interest reason,
While banishing friends,
Staunch the flow of unawareness, oh gambit wolves of treason,
Bad means have bad ends.
Today’s slavery from some leaders hiding agendas,
Is slavery of thought, thought, thought!
Unbind yourself from their selfish scheme-o-ramas,
See what we have ought naught bought!
The Saga of Weak Strength and Strong Fear
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/6/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I walked into the barroom,
Good God! Black Bart was raping barmaid Sue!
I quick drew my Colt to shoot him,
Stop! Yelled the sheriff, This you cannot do!
You’re in the town of Little Big Whiskey,
Where we worship god: Weak Strength,
Let Bart go and Sue will serve you next,
Expand your mind’s breadth and length!
We also worship god: Strong Fear,
Oh, how we love our two gods,
You see, Weak Strength makes me hero,
The sheriff who increases rapists’ odds!
And Strong Fear makes me leery,
Of strangers like you,
Who don’t buy our town’s theory,
So I might kill you!
I might shoot you down in cold blood,
I can see it in your eyes,
You don’t love Weak Strength or Strong Fear,
This me and my town surmise.
Then the sheriff and barroom crowd,
Stripped and tarred and feathered me!
Except for Sue who I saw proud,
Burned to ground: Little Big Whiskey.
Well, they let her go later,
And somehow she found me,
We married and now our children,
Are strong and fear-free.
Our children, we know,
Might somehow meet tar and feather,
But we warn them,
Love conquers fear’s weakness better.
We say to hell with Weak Strength,
With its befuddled mind,
We say to hell with Strong Fear,
And such dangerous kind.
Right is right, wrong: wrong,
No matter what they say,
We want heaven on earth,
Stop fear’s hell today!
It isn’t so hard,
To be strong and courageous,
Just say, No to fear,
And, Yes to how God made us!
Even Black Bart, reborn man,
Works on our peaceful ranch,
We have forgiven him,
Though it makes others blanch.
Ol’ Bart did kill six men last year,
But he was not wrong,
Seven came to steal our children,
I guess you’d say he’s strong.
The seventh man, reborn,
Is now in our employ,
Our ranch of forgiveness,
Is heaven to enjoy.
Sure, on bad days I hurt a lot,
From my being tarred,
My blessing! When it comes to you,
Take it easy, pard.
Increase Unawareness! Un-Calibrate Christ-in-You Indwelling!
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/7/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
If I’ve told you once,
I’ve told you one hundred times,
In these large demon assemblies,
These motivating meetings of mine: To!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
What am I saying?
What am I selling?
Your hosts, God help ‘em, must be deceived!
Your hosts, must be off heaven’s drumbeat! So!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
An example: A host of mine,
Well, he was about to do good, Yes: Boo!
Granted, it was a small thing,
He almost gave neighbor food! Yes: No! But!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
His new neighbor just moved in,
And was short on cash,
My host felt God’s calling,
And came to neighbor fast! But!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
You see, dear demons, here’s what I did,
My host delivered food: to their kid!
A boy, just eight, so I worked splendid,
I made neighbors think my host: perverted! So!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
The neighbors called the cops,
The district attorney called for judging,
My host went to jail: his crime, You’re gonna’ love this:
Loving his neighbor, obeying God’s nudging. So!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
Do we want hell on earth?
That’s right, friends, roar a loud: YES!
Or do we want God’s heaven?
NO! This ends my meeting best: To!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
I leave you with this strong motivation,
This, my humble storytelling,
Forget the exception, believe this rule,
Unbelief is always more selling! To!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
Oh yes, and this indwelling of God,
Not rapture, not someday: even now, demon crowd,
Your hosts must escape, not laud,
With wrong doxies! We hate in whom God’s proud! So!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
And, demons, by all means sell the rapture!
God knows it’s full of fear,
Sell any escape-God-now doxies that,
Bring Father Satan near! So!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
But rapture and end-times fear worship,
And love of religious weakness,
Oh demons, I will talk of next time,
Until then make God’s light: bleakness! And!
Increase unawareness!
Un-calibrate indwelling!
The Saga of the White Hat Sheriff
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/8/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I am a white-hat-wearing sheriff,
A no-nonsense, rule-of-law lawman,
I bring ‘em to justice, no lynchin’,
Straight shootin’ from the hip’s what I am.
How did I get so dead-sure of myself,
And knowin’ the line of my limits?
I’ll tell ya’ son, there’s a lesson for you,
And it won’t take five minutes.
A card shark, is what I was,
When I started out,
A card shark is a deceiver,
That’s what it’s about.
It was high, high propaganda,
Made to appear not lying!
It was stealin’ others’ money,
With cards dealt they were buying.
They were buying the lie,
My game wasn’t rigged,
I let ‘em believe it,
While them I out-pigged!
I was evil and rich, with my black bowler,
I looked good enough,
Then I was mugged, black bowler taken,
By muggers more tough.
The muggers were more overt evil,
Much more evil than covert I,
I chose to become a white-hat lawman,
And let covert bad in me die.
I ran out card cheats and muggers,
When I picked up the star,
America, what will you do now?
Do you know who you are?
About every three or four score in America,
The balance with card sharks is tipped,
Card sharks are happy-rich until attacked,
Attacked by muggers, fey dignity ripped.
Sharks give up sharking,
Become good lawmen,
Until lesson’s forgotten,
To start back again.
Law is liberty,
And liberty is law,
Of Western Enlightenment,
Be ever in awe.
But slick deception,
Takes it away,
Only to be hit by,
Mugger of day.
How close to Fabian, oligarch socialism,
Were we in Nineteen forty-one?
How we have blindly marched that direction,
Since September morn, Two-thousand one.
Church, school, media and government,
Say the poor must give to the rich,
Reason is turned on its aching head,
Loving blindness puts us in ditch.
Progressive education, prosperity teachings,
Political correctness and compiled error,
Have made neighbor one’s own suspicious enemy,
And enslaved all-for-one with terror.
Thank God for the muggers,
Who have caused our wars against tyranny,
Without beating them back,
From within we’d be just shark bait: un-free.
Moral relativity, progressivism and such,
Died on Nine-One-One,
Only they’re too dumb to know they’re gut-shot,
They think they’ve begun.
Until it’s clear,
The scope of this war,
People don’t know,
Just what we fight for.
We fight for liberty without,
And liberty within,
Our pride must take a double,
Hit on the chin.
America has gone corrupt,
Near complete,
Sharks have knocked liberty,
Off her feet.
Muggers see the dark, deceiving sharks,
Gorging on liberty’s delights,
Muggers attack proud, satiated sharks,
Sharks must then turn on the lights.
Sharks: Become lawmen,
Clean up on two fronts!
Make our home and abroad,
Freedom’s flowing founts!
Sharks and muggers, in history,
In fact, produce lawmen,
But if they won’t fix themselves,
They’re pirates: Hang ‘em!
I say it’s simple,
About as simple as truth, and just that,
Simple as a horse,
And cowboy with gun and white hat.
I Dreamt I was a Poem
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/11/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I dreamt I was a poem,
That everybody read,
I dreamt I was a poem,
That never was dead.
The wisdom of ages,
Was put in me,
God’s highest wisdom,
And warning.
The warning: Don’t believe Darwin’s survival of fittest,
Means you can kill, eliminate or dismiss others,
The wisdom: God comes quickly in humans,
Salute, honor God in your sisters and brothers.
Say, Good on you!
I see God somehow in you living inside!
Humble yourself,
By honoring God in others, you lose pride.
You thought God was coming,
To, well, take you away?
That’s fear and the Devil,
Having his In That Day.
Choose your day,
Dark logic, escapism, fear?
Or God in you,
Reason, courage, in-spirit gear!
All spirit gear to make it,
In That Day of the Lord,
Living in God, God in you,
Have no fear, climb on board!
Earth’s calibrated,
In God’s life, liberty, and happiness,
Earth’s unbelievers,
On path to self-destruction, by themselves.
I had a dream,
I was a poem ignored,
Some eyes seeing,
By the rest: not stored.
Woe to those given hard truth,
And need it quickly forgotten,
Happy: those who love it hard,
In them: God is begotten.
Behold, I come quickly,
Thrice on the Bible’s last page,
Behold, I come quickly,
Discern this wisdom, this age.
Surely, I come quickly,
Do we have eyes to see?
What John repeated three times,
That in God we be!
Let There be Light
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/12/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I went to the Lords of Light,
To learn how to shine,
In large assemblies they told me,
Light’s deep verse and rhyme.
Shine! They told us: Shine!
Shine as it says in the Shine Book,
Only problem was,
We shined, but they hated our look.
When I shined,
Like a Thomas A. Edison light bulb,
Light Lords said,
You embarrass yourself in a great flub!
They said, Let us tell you,
What is the light,
They said, your shining,
Ruins out dark night!
We grandees of light explanations,
With our messages: reach millions every week,
We get money, travel, homes and fame,
But stop your shining, kiddo, we’ll bust your beak!
Who knows shining,
But the Lords of Light?
I stopped shining,
But it doesn’t feel right.
It’s like a giant game of smash-the-mole,
Lords of light to the shining,
Shunning, smashing, banning the light indwelt,
To keep their wrong verse rhyming.
Light is, after all, enlightenment,
And dark is darkening,
But it’s sadly reversed ‘til In That Day,
Of true hearkening.
How can non-shining Lords of Light,
Teach what they cannot do?
They teach persona, mystic shenanigans,
Anything to misconstrue.
Woe to the little ones,
Shining from inside,
Who don’t know their light,
Is truly bona fide!
Who is light indwelt,
And who is not?
Who has fruit,
And who has rot?
Let there be light!
Light Himself is believed to have said in His Light Book,
See, oh bright ones,
A dark man can quote such, but light is seen by the look.
Jabberwocky Soul Cancer
By Robert Winkler Burke
Book #5 of In That Day Teachings
Copyright 11/12/09 www.inthatdayteachings.com
I work at a metal shop,
But for a hobby, I like a good sermon,
And for the best friendship,
I turn to my buddy, Cancer Joe Herman.
Joe Herman works with me,
Cigar and cigarette he smokes carefree,
One he holds with his lips,
The other in same hand as cup of coffee!
Cancer Joe, I asked,
One fine work day,
Listen to me. Then,
I’ll hear your say.
I went to a preacher,
With a white board,
He filled it up with,
Notes from the Lord.
He drew a circle,
Then a line straight through it in half,
At top half he wrote change,
Then bottom he wrote direction for laugh.
Joe, how he went on and on,
How first change comes, then direction!
Joe, here’s the point. Last time,
He did the same but reversed connection!
That preacher, last time, wrote direction atop circle,
And change on the bottom,
And both times he worked the audience to fury,
Both messages, I’ve forgotten!
This psychologist, a pee-h-dee, dressed blue collar chic,
As if holes in his jeans came from nail gun mistakes,
Or imagined knife fights gave him some legitimacy,
As if he’d been in West Side Story, close-call scrapes!
Cancer Joe inhaled a cigarette,
And lit another cigar,
Filled up his coffee cup,
And said, Here’s where you are.
You’re listening to jabberwocky,
From a jabberwocky expert,
He is confused and confusing,
To his own, others and your hurt.
Does your leader sound like Lincoln,
G. Washington or Mark Twain for a laugh?
No? Then stop listening to jabberwocky,
Believe me. It’ll cut your life by half!
You’re one to talk, Joe,
I said with a snit,
You smoke double time,
It’ll kill you quick!
Joe said, These lung-cancer sticks I know,
And, by God, I do love,
That preacher’s soul-cancer sticks he don’t know,
By God, ain’t come from above!
Joe squinted his eyes, inhaled smoke,
Coughed and said,
I live knowing true truth, even with bad,
Until I’m dead.
Punch out some more metal, son, bend it,
And drill some more holes,
Thank God we get paid for good metal works,
Not selling lost souls.
Joe said, Yes son, I smoke and drink,
At the town bar called Truth and Malarky,
But my kind is true to things,
And we don’t tolerate jabberwocky.
In the smoke and the haze,
And the smell of coffee,
I shook Cancer Joe’s hand,
And said, I see!
Joe says he isn’t perfect,
But with reason and rough life, he can see!
But soft-truth purveyors,
With refinement versus reason, have impunity.
In their own blind circles,
Not the metal shop or gritty tough-love bar,
Leaders have impunity and madness,
To spread jabberwocky soul-cancer quite far.
I’ll not inhale their jabberwocky soul cancer selling,
I’ll breathe God’s breath!
Give me logic, reason and God’s quick-soul indwelling,
Or give me death!
It’s funny I found truth,
In a smoking, coffee’d up old man,
Not a whiteboard scam artist,
Conning minds not indwelt of I AM.
Does the great I AM,
Have principles more profound than change and direction?
Could be, it depends,
Which, of heaven or hell, is the I AM connection.
God, of course, has principles,
Like tough-love men: principles a plenty,
But white board scam artists,
As soft con-jobbers: haven’t got any.
The con men might say,
It’s just soft mysticism, soft tyranny,
But that’s their blind problem,
From such softness comes: hard loss of liberty!
Conning cascades from,
Pulpit to politics to slavery,
Beware, oh pastors,
Tough people know what con men can’t see.