A neat little almost sentence

Ever dwelled, we wooden walkers, we warm bell men, we loud tent men, we proud pigpen ten, then sent to Sendlak with no sendbacks, mac truck and bent backs, lent to scrap, sold as a mat in a maze with a rat in a cage buying all the bars back. 


Better alive!

Oh my grandma said something strange to me a in dream. She said, 'Do not knot the donut hole.' Which thing, a string cannot make, what is round and baked. Ever we sit and stare and wonder why those sitting and staring do not care. Where is the first man to crack? He is there sitting quietly at the back. Have some sympathy for the soldiers in Syria. Firing rounds into the sky out of spite, proving all the great thing about a society run by men, for the sanctity of the state, a conspiracy across international lines, you know one country won't mess with another's mojo rising. Right and wrong has ceded to power and vacuum -- which I guess becomes the more urgent paradigm faced with your own annihilation and the disappearance of your birthright which used to be the afterlife?