įA Tōøłśhęd d’Mÿštęrïįçæ


Dedicated & sung for…

Doctor & Toolmaker
of the
Great Gentle Giants


The current coordinates of a contemporary Delphi. Center of the western world. An irresistible cathode calling out to characters of all categories. Overachievers & underachievers, dropouts & doctors, artists & writers, drug geek5 & chemistry nerd5, & all manner of members named psychedelic glitterati . 

By doctors, musicians, teachers and writers. By yet-to-poets and lover’s & fighters. This Dirt Road Colossus, that the world knew as Sasha was admired both here & afar.

Here was Telesterion, a true Temple worth attending. Pre-raptured congregation of geeks, freaks, & seekers. With it’s pot-smoking choir & with the sermon never-ending.

Then a beautiful era when angels were chemists, now ending the other way ’round. Gentle tears became torrents, then the wails of pure mourning as Ol’ Hades tore up through the ground.



A NOTE FROM THE ELYSIUM FOUNDATION:

Gaining in popularitySong & verse created ’round this small world, in a great many languages, across many lands, domestic & foreign.
Poems, plays & odes. Epics ballads and one-man shows, with keen to tell of those not long ago days, when the Giant and his’s Titans of the last of the Great Gentle man called Sasha.

These songs only increased in number & over the many decades after his passing, until the singing of the songs sung, had become unending.
A thunderous ever-rising-in-volume to the work of the good doctor’s cause.


įŠȵłœgæïį ęñ Œłb d’Mæštęręïį

the daVinci of atoms and ahead of his time.

A chemist from heaven, he’d arrived with his team,

Built a toolbox in a Toolshed, that he’d seen in his dreams. 

His workshop being modest, with just a small crew.

The devil’s own mountain stood commanding the view. 

He gave gift to the world with patience and smiles,

scores of new tools stored in small amber vials. 

Filling volumes of notebooks of all he would find,

on his search for adventure and the keys the mind. 

As aged in his years (upon a lawn chair from Sears)

the grateful poured blessings of praise in his ears. 

Well he welcomed them all (just as always been done)

speaking wisdom in whispers (and roughly one million bad puns).

With one last glass of cheap red, he teared up with a grin,

and that rascal, Old Master, slipped away with the wind.



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