Black Mass

I may reskin this ritual from Samhain 2020 for the conclusion to my Grand Initiation in 2021.


O Dark Muse, guide me in this preparation even as you have guided me so far in mind and heart, in sunlight and shadow, in fiery Will and amor fati, on the physical plane and on the astral. My heart is stirred by a noble theme of perfect union, loving companionship, and kindred spirit, but I cry out to you now Unholy Guardian Angel, keep me to this even more sacred goal of liberation from control and convention, from rigid rules and religion, to a new freedom where Self soars high.

I use the title “Black Mass” for the transgressive system shock, as it has been seized upon by popular culture for this purpose as well as by real Satanists, who use it more as public psychodrama rather than for real ceremonies or workings. The title indicates the ceremony is an inversion or parody of the Catholic Mass, the most sacred of services.

To be a true ritual of the left-hand path, I choose to consider a dark ceremony for the Self–not a public drama to awaken sleepers, not even an esoteric gathering for solidarity, but rather an individual working arising out of chaos. If others share in the energy, they must do so from their own sacred space, tapping in and connecting from afar. They may walk a path where no one goes together.  

So f*** those who say you must join their closed communion, f*** those who say you cannot join, and f*** those who say you cannot have multiple belonging or blending of paths.  F*** the mainstream religions, and f*** those opposed to the mainstream religions. F*** those who say you must submit, and f*** those who say you cannot submit. F*** the right-hand path, and f*** the left-hand path. I go off road! I take off the training wheels and ride the bicycle! I kick out the ladder and climb the tree!

Tool’s “Eulogy” or something that resonates more, but helps you break with tradition.

He had a lot to say
He had a lot of nothing to say
We’ll miss him
We’ll miss him

He had a lot to say
He had a lot of nothing to say
We’ll miss him
We’ll miss him

We are going to miss him
We are going to miss him

So long
We wish you well
You told us how you weren’t afraid to die
Well then, so long
Don’t cry
Or feel too down
Not all martyrs see divinity
But at least you tried

Standing above the crowd
He had a voice that was strong and loud
We’ll miss him
We’ll miss him

Ranting and pointing his finger
At everything but his heart
We’ll miss him
We’ll miss him

We are going to miss him

No way to recall
What it was that you had said to me,
Like I care at all
So loud.
You sure could yell.
You took a stand on every little thing
And so loud

Standing above the crowd,
He had a voice so strong and loud and I
Swallowed his facade cuz I’m so
Eager to identify with
Someone above the ground,
Someone who seemed to feel the same
Someone prepared to lead the way, with
Someone who would die for me
Will you? will you now?
Would you die for me?
Don’t you *beep*’ lie
Don’t you step out of line
Don’t you step out of line
Don’t you step out of line
Don’t you *beep*’ lie

You’ve claimed all this time that you would die for me.
Why then are you so surprised when hear your own eulogy?
He had a lot to say.
He had a lot of nothing to say
He had a lot to say.
He had a lot of nothing to say
Come down
Get off your *beep*’ cross
We need the *beep*’ space to nail the next fool martyr
To ascend you must die
You must be crucified
For our sins and our lies

Invocation: Call out to your Higher Self or Holy Guardian Angel. Light a candle and/or incense. Cast a circle or by Will alone create sacred space. Invite invasion from/submersion in Isolate Intelligence or Lucifer and Lilith or Prince of Darkness or Set or Om/Dao/All/Nothing. Set up or draw a transgressive symbol that shocks, repels, or thrills your psyche.


Focus on some written words, perhaps from your own past journals. I will choose something not from a revealed text of One True Way but off the “profane,” secular bookshelves of the library.

Walt Whitman: Song of Myself–first three sections only



MY spirit to yours dear brother,
Do not mind because many sounding your name do not understand you,
I do not sound your name, but I understand you,
I specify you with joy O my comrade to salute you, and to salute those who are with you, before and since, and those to come also,
That we all labor together transmitting the same charge and succession,
We few equals indifferent of lands, indifferent of times,
We, enclosers of all continents, all castes, allowers of all theologies,
Compassionaters, perceivers, rapport of men,
We walk silent among disputes and assertions, but reject not the disputers nor any thing that is asserted,
We hear the bawling and din, we are reach’d at by divisions, jealousies, recriminations on every side,
They close peremptorily upon us to surround us, my comrade,
Yet we walk unheld, free, the whole earth over, journeying up and down till we make our ineffaceable mark upon time and the diverse eras,
Till we saturate time and eras, that the men and women of races, ages to come, may prove brethren and lovers as we are.

Drawing a random card from the Thoth Tarot, read from The Book of Thoth

Excerpt: “The Princess is therefore shewn with the plumes of justice streaming like flames from her brow; and she is unclothed, shewing that chemical action can only take place when the element is perfectly free to combine with its partner. She bears a wand crowned with the disk of the Sun; and she is leaping in a surging flame which re-calls by its shape the letter Yodh.

This card may be said to represent the dance of the virgin priestess of the Lords of Fire, for she is in attendance upon the golden altar ornamented with
rams’ heads symbolizing the fires of Spring.”


The most important segment is the one I can write least on, for “black” liturgy (written or recorded practice) may be free form, but ritual must be entirely free. In the psychodrama of Black Mass, the actual wafer and wine from the Catholic service were desecrated; however, this acting out will not signify meaningful liberation for every individual. As for me, I will probably tear a page from my Protestant Bible–such as the Ten Commandments that represented the old covenant–and then desecrate it with reversed pentagram, profane words, and images, before burning it in a cauldron: hence the “bread of the word” will become the dead-ash end of the ouroboros’s tail; for the wine, a drop of my own blood added to the ash may represent sacrifice of self to Self rather than an external, physical sacrifice of animal or savior. I may include something else in my own infernal alchemy. To each her own abhorrent, transgressive thrill of cutting cords, of breaking free.

I may add a little idolatry or other secret practice to “give it to the man,” break with tradition, or otherwise experience liberation in ritual. I may close with further song, meditation or journal writing.

So it is!

Published by Alan Wheeler

I am an English teacher, performing magician, and mystic.

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