Her kiss was honey... thick and slow,
But it burned like fire from the get-go.
Eyes like dusk on a heatwave night,
Told me everything... but not what’s right.

She danced like smoke on a porch light breeze,
Talked ‘bout forever like a southern tease.
I fell for the ghost of who she might be,
Now I’m drinkin' her memory... bitter and free.

Her kiss like fire, but I’d go again,
Even if it leaves me scarred like sin.
She was mercy wrapped in a hurricane —
And I loved her most when she caused me pain.
Yeah, I still feel the spark in the rain…

She left lipstick on my cigarette pack,
Now every drag pulls me right back.
A heart like hers don’t settle or stay,
Just leaves ashes where love used to lay.

I built a home from matchsticks and pine,
She lit it up with a kiss so fine.
Told myself it was fate, not mistake,
But I still taste her every breath I take.

Her kiss like fire, but I’d go again,
Even if it leaves me scarred like sin.
She was mercy wrapped in a hurricane —
And I loved her most when she caused me pain.
Yeah, I still feel the spark in the rain…

Ain’t no map for a heart this lost…
No compass when the needle’s been crossed.
I chased her shadow across that field...
And kissed the flame ‘cause it made me feel.

Her kiss… like fire…
Still burns… under my skin…
Still comes… back again…

Dust & Steel

Kiss Like Fire

kiss like fire(HD)

On the Porch isn’t just a record, it’s a conversation. It’s the sound of old souls and weathered hands, of stories told long after midnight under a sky full of stars. It’s music played on borrowed instruments, with creaking floorboards for percussion and a rusted steel guitar crying in the background. It’s imperfect on purpose, because so is life.

This album is about the roads that shaped us, the ones we chose and the ones that chose us. It’s about scars that never quite fade and memories that refuse to leave. It’s about love that breaks us and saves us, wars fought far from home and battles fought deep within, about grief we carry and grace we try to find along the way.

This isn’t a polished studio album meant for neon lights and perfect mixes. It’s the sound of boots on a wooden porch, of a low, raspy voice telling the truth because there’s no reason to lie anymore. It’s a celebration of the beauty in imperfection and a reminder that some of life’s greatest songs are the ones played simply, honestly, and without apology.

So pull up a chair. Pour something strong. And sit with us a while because every note, every word, and every story here was meant to be shared on the porch.

Piper in the Distance

This isn't a love song
I'm not waiting by your window
The tea went cold an hour ago
You're not coming, that's alright

This isn't a memoir
I don't keep your letters
I don't count the ways you said nothing
I don't care if you meant it

This isn't goodbye
Just a now without a tomorrow
Just a sky without a forecast
Just a name

I'm not saying
Saying soon

This isn't a love song
I'm not waiting by your window
The tea went cold an hour ago
You're not coming, that's alright

This isn't a memoir
I don't keep your letters
I don't count the ways you said nothing
I don't care if you meant it

This isn't goodbye
Just a now without a tomorrow
Just a sky without a forecast
Just a name

I'm not saying
Saying soon

(Not) a Love Song

AGAIN AND AGAIN

3:00 AM. You can’t move.
He’s standing at the foot of your bed.
Wide-brimmed hat. No face. Just shadow wearing a man.
Millions have seen him. Grandma in ’44. Dad in ’73. Now you.
This is the song he doesn’t want you to finish.
Playlist: Tales from the Void

Hatman

A cosmic autobiography told by a star. The Quiet Machinery of Stars blends ambient soundscapes, poetic spoken-word, and celestial textures into a journey through birth, light, collapse, and rebirth across cosmic time.

The Quiet Machinery of Stars

Luminous Realms

My & You

Wrote this 40 years ago  - Sadly still the same

Who can call himself the Victor - remix 2

'to have & to hold' is not a biography, a lecture, or a historical reconstruction. It is an imagined world — one you step into to feel your way around an idea rather than to learn it.

The album takes place loosely in early-20th-century Cambridge, at the moment when Western thought was beginning to strain under its own certainty. Science had proved astonishingly powerful at breaking reality into parts, explaining mechanisms, and producing results — yet at the same time it was encountering problems it could no longer fully contain. Probability was replacing certainty. Events mattered as much as objects. Meaning no longer sat still.

Out of this tension emerged process philosophy: the idea that reality is not made of finished things, but of ongoing happenings — that love, time, marriage, and even truth itself are not states you reach, but activities you keep participating in.

The album imagines this moment through a human lens. A mathematician trying to complete a system of logic. A thinker insisting that nothing important is ever truly finished. Proofs accumulating. Years passing. A marriage understood first as a statement, then slowly revealed as a practice. Love appearing not as romance in the foreground, but as something quietly unfolding elsewhere — happening whether it is attended to or not.

Rather than explaining these ideas directly, the songs allow you to inhabit them. You hear bells ring. You feel evenings close in. You sense the weight of unfinished work and the relief of letting something continue without control. The philosophy is not taught; it is lived.

This is a soft documentary in sound — an audio quantum leap into a world. Its purpose is not accuracy, quotation, or instruction, but immersion. By the time the album ends, you may not be able to define process philosophy in a sentence — but you may feel why it arose, what problem it was answering, and why it still matters.

To Have and To Hold is an exploration of commitment not as possession, but as attention.
Of marriage not as a conclusion, but as renewal.
Of understanding not as something you arrive at — but something that keeps happening.

If you listen closely, nothing here ever quite resolves.
But something continues.

Eighty Pages

To Have and To Hold is not a biography, a lecture, or a historical reconstruction. It is an imagined world — one you step into to feel your way around an idea rather than to learn it.

The album takes place loosely in early-20th-century Cambridge, at the moment when Western thought was beginning to strain under its own certainty. Science had proved astonishingly powerful at breaking reality into parts, explaining mechanisms, and producing results — yet at the same time it was encountering problems it could no longer fully contain. Probability was replacing certainty. Events mattered as much as objects. Meaning no longer sat still.

Out of this tension emerged process philosophy: the idea that reality is not made of finished things, but of ongoing happenings — that love, time, marriage, and even truth itself are not states you reach, but activities you keep participating in.

The album imagines this moment through a human lens. A mathematician trying to complete a system of logic. A thinker insisting that nothing important is ever truly finished. Proofs accumulating. Years passing. A marriage understood first as a statement, then slowly revealed as a practice. Love appearing not as romance in the foreground, but as something quietly unfolding elsewhere — happening whether it is attended to or not.

Rather than explaining these ideas directly, the songs allow you to inhabit them. You hear bells ring. You feel evenings close in. You sense the weight of unfinished work and the relief of letting something continue without control. The philosophy is not taught; it is lived.

This is a soft documentary in sound — an audio quantum leap into a world. Its purpose is not accuracy, quotation, or instruction, but immersion. By the time the album ends, you may not be able to define process philosophy in a sentence — but you may feel why it arose, what problem it was answering, and why it still matters.

To Have and To Hold is an exploration of commitment not as possession, but as attention.
Of marriage not as a conclusion, but as renewal.
Of understanding not as something you arrive at — but something that keeps happening.

If you listen closely, nothing here ever quite resolves.
But something continues.

To Hold

Fleeting Days

Old Poet turned singer songwriter - Songs from my heart and mind for your hearts and minds - United we sing ......Really mine really yours !

Who can call himself the Victor - remix 2

Thoughts and Ones