<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=387930" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>I Am Only As Old...</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">i am only as old<br>as the memory of childbirth.<br>dollar signs in dimestore windows, <br>milkshakes for a quarter.<br>non-filter cigarettes and broken Trojans, <br>long hair ironed with loving hands.<br>when revolution smelled like sex, <br>and god reeked of napalm.<br>when young girls with hard nipples<br>passed doobies to wide eyed poets.<br>and the streets convulsed with anger, <br>that sat at the back of the bus.<br>while religious M-16's jammed, <br>and radical students were beaten<br>with patriotic pride....<br>as young bodhisattvas with thumbs extended, <br>rediscovered the land of the free.<br>and for a time not owned by owning, <br>we heard the beat of a distant drum! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">i am only as old as oceans, <br>crossed at the cost of life.<br>and prison cells that defined freedom, <br>more by the given than the taken.<br>when right meant more than morality, <br>and intent itself became destiny.<br>when color became a flavor, <br>and all tasted good.<br>when freedom felt like dignity, <br>and every hand fit! <br>i am only as old as dreaming, <br>the dream forever new!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eric+Cockrell">Eric Cockrell</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=387930" data-title="I Am Only As Old... de Eric Cockrell" data-description="i am only as old as the memory of childbirth. dollar signs in dimestore windows, milkshakes for a quarter. non-filter cigarettes and broken Trojans, long hair ironed with loving hands. when revolution smelled like sex, and god reeked of napalm...."></div> </div> </div>

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