Exhilaration is that feeling you get just after a great idea hits you, and just before you realize what's wrong with it.
quote by Joe Moore
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The people to fear are not those who disagree with you, but those who disagree with you and are too cowardly to let you know.
quote by Joe Moore
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Money is a strange thing. It ranks with love as our greatest source of joy, and with death as our greatest source of anxiety.
quote by Joe Moore
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The mind is a wonderful thing. It starts working the minute you're born, and doesn't stop until you get up to speak in public.
quote by Joe Moore
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Marriage is like a dollar bill. You cannot spend half of it when you tear it in two. The value of one half depends upon the other.
quote by Joe Moore
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America Where a man can say what he thinks, if he isn't afraid of his wife, his boss, his customer, his neighbors, or the government.
quote by Joe Moore
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Our laws are a reflection of our culture. Our culture does not condone the torture of innocent and defenseless creatures. And we as a society believe all God's creatures should be treated humanely.
quote by Joe Moore
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My Prison of Visions
Another bomb explodes, bodies far and wide;
The concussion spreads, resembling a tide.
These terrorist, murderers they are, soldiers not;
Targeting the young, old, murder they plot.
These visions I have seen, imprison my mind;
In a world of evil, the pits of mankind.
Where children are slain, used for their purity;
Terrorist know the good, saving the young is surety.
The prison that holds my mind is hell;
Where the evil call home, long they dwell.
This prison was created, by the sons of the devil;
Terrorist who seek many deaths, organized to bedevil.
They murder their own, who just seek peace;
They only want a vote, of who shall police.
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poem by Joe Moore
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The Combat Soldier
Many accept the name of soldier,
Yet sit in the office, at the rear.
Whilst the real soldier, the combat soldier,
Fight the enemy, eye to eye.
Their uniforms dirty, faces weathered,
Hands rough, minds tethered.
They’ve seen death’s hand, reaching for them,
Their friend’s, death did condemn.
Their weapons are scratched, and used,
Long in the battle, they are abused.
These soldiers seek refuge, in the wire,
Where many spend the operation in its entire.
The combat soldier gets a short rest,
Only to go back out, confined by their vest.
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poem by Joe Moore
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