Autumnal Equinox LVII

Seasons In Hell

Gaze into the lantern's flame, you can see all the way to Hell, lit by Lucifer's infernalight, guiding the way through the Shadow's Abyss, gazing back in Dæmonic bliss.


Flickering faces in the moonlight, each marked by Devil's hand, the mark of Hellfire & brimstone grand.

Singed leaves fall to earth, a triple twirl tumbling trinity six, array the sinister path with petrichor. The 'Keys' unlock the portal door.


Cloven hooves echo up from the Pit, spectres in the sky! Rolling thunder, lightning strikes, blasting winds, quakes the land asunder!


13,31... Satan nears... Soon to be here... 

SATANIn Nomine Satanas,



Rev. Blackthorne
Autumn Equinox, LVII A.S.
Noctuary, Draconian Empire

Author's Notes/Comments: 

It feels like Halloween again...

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Autumnal Equinox LVI

Seasons In Hell

Season Belial emerges from the shadows, cloven hooves quaking the earth up from The Pit. 

For Lo, have we descended into The Abyss, passing through the unholy black fire, empowered even still.

The solace of the Night, by Lucifer's hellantern resplendent in the darkness of the mind. Regeneration timelessness.

'Neath Hecate's soothing embrace, the harvest moon shines bright, revealing the path to autumnal delights.

The Devil's Mirror reflects the face of Satan, the masks of pleasure and terror! Rejoice! The Beast has arisen! ∞

In Nomine Satanas,

Rev. Warlock Draconis Blackthorne

Autumnal Equinox, LVI Anno Satanas

Haunted Noctuary, Draconian Empire

* Rite: Hellemental Mass

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Hail Satan!

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Tangerine Leaves




In New York the leaves tempt tangerines and raspberries

from their chlorophyll

with more grace than me

tempting words from my busted hand.

It’s Tuesday and I’ve been staring out a screen

imagining the crisp scent of autumn

wafting from the nearest tree, but

I live in Florida and the leaves are as green as grapes

ripe from Publix

and the humidity still clings to every breath of air

ripening in the heat. The roadkill

is as pungent as ever

along the highway that takes me to neither

the trees nor the shore

and would carry it

if I could pull the bones from its broken body

to resurrect it on my bookshelf

next to the boar skull the ants cleaned

last spring. I’d watched the world wake

early from winter and weave

the coral vines through my fence

to strangle my budding tangerine tree

with the same intensity I denounce

the warm rains of early October

and the inadequacy of the living

to honor the dead.




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3 Poems: The Fall Ball, Love The Fan, School Programming

Economy of Action



The fir tree had no

new gown for the fall ball

but at November's close

it was apparent that

only she had clothes

(to my mother)

(May all those who are facing hunger and eviction receive immediate


Love the fan makes spark the fire Love focused creates form from desire Love the finescreen turns firehose to mist Love the filter sees the fallen as a saint. Love the factory where miracles are fashioned. Love the furnace freezing hearts have sought. Love the fruit tree with gifts for all laden. Love the filings on the greatest magnet caught.

(to Elizabeth Hoare, whose unusual aura is made of

high frequencies of light)



Taught in school to objectify animals, to refer to them as ‘it’ rather
than ‘he’ or ‘she’. I never thought of meat as a murdered animal’s dead
body pieces although disgusted by the row of test tubes full of
different colas and pops, each with a hotdog slowly rotting inside it,
and horrified by the biology teacher’s pithing a frog in front of us
(jamming a needle into his skull, a form of lobotomy). Like some mind
control interrogater, she gave a lower grade to anyone not willing to
eat chocolate covered ants.


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October's raring to get us high on sugar
with temperature falling


In an elevating freight elevator
I overheard a conversation between two adults


behind their ragged full grown beard
which could hide their faces


but failed to hide their
childish love for colorful things


They were discussing if
skittles were even considered candies.

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Autumnal Equinox LIII

Seasons In Hell




Season Belial

The Devil's Covens gather forth at The Gates of Hell to reap the pleasures of previous spells...

Demon Winds, Dragon Wings, the colors of The Abyss upon flora & fauna cascading upon leaves strewn from tentacle vines & bloodthorned branches, as spiderweb veils gently dances. The faces of Satan interchanging with The harvest Moon, the wondrous sights and sounds of the season of gloom. Shadows stretch, The Hands of Doom. 

The Throne of Satan darkens the land with enchantment & mystery, pleasures & treasures possessed with ghoulish delight! 

Draegon Ouroboros sheds & turns another cycle of timelessness. 

Mighty Belial there calls forth in bestial rapport, hooves splitting rock, carving paths with Hellfire from cavernous Brimstone Pits, receive the triple mark of sulfurous plume! 

In Nomine Satanas,

Warlock Draconis Blackthorne
22 September, LIII
Noctuary, Infernal Empire

Author's Notes/Comments: 

October Day

October day, Daniella Carmona

Sarah used to wait for the underground every day to go to work. Each morning was the same. She woke up, cooked herself some scrambled eggs, sausages and baked beans on the side. She toasted some bread and made herself some tea, served her dog some kibbles and walked a couple of streets to get to the underground station. Rainy, gray days, but beautiful ones, in spite of the misconception that those type of days are sad. Though, ordinary days. She sat and waited. Long black hair, deep brown eyes, intense look. Sarah was a journalist and worked on an important paper of her country. She loved her job. She loved history, art, life. She loved music, her favorite type of art.

Lewis used to drive his car to get to work. One day, in the month of October, when the orange, yellow, and brown leaves fell from the trees, his car stopped working so he decided to take the underground to get to work. Each morning was the same. He woke up, poured some milk on a bowl and served himself cereal. Then he went to a local coffee shop near his flat. Regularly, he came back with his coffee and ran his car, but that autumn day, he took the underground. It was a rainy day, though a beautiful one. He sat and waited. Short blond hair, deep blue eyes, kind look. Lewis was an engineer in musical production and worked at a record company. He loved his job. One of his hobbies was to collect vinyl records.

The underground arrived, Sarah and Lewis hopped in. Sarah sat in front of the row of seats where Lewis sat. She grabbed the book she was reading, “The Romanov Sisters” by Helen Rappaport. Lewis sat and starred at her. He had noticed her since she hopped on the underground and couldn’t stop starring at her. Shy look, though, intense. Beauty, mystery and intellect had joined together to create a symphony. Sarah had arrived in her station so she was about to get off the underground. Lewis noticed that she packed her book and grabbed her briefcase. He had to talk to her. Although, he was kind of shy, he decided to go down in the same station, even though he was going to get down in another one to get to his work. He approached her and asked her for her name and number. Sarah looked at him and starred into his deep blue eyes. He seemed to be nice and kind. She starred at the tattoos on his arms which she loved. Lewis gave Sarah his number as well. Then, Lewis had to take the underground and Sarah kept walking to get to her work.

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After The Golden Age


Chaos should not cease

To dominate the world.

O yes, Nyarlathotep;

Will rule!


No wish for harmony,

Of its Golden Age;

It was before the Fall.


Reveling in constant disorder,

But Yog-Sothoth prefers reason;

Giving His first allegiance

To the Daemon Sultan: Azathoth

Remembering old times of this God.


Cthulhu does side with Him,

But Yig supports Yog-Sothoth;

As Father Serpent of the Cosmos,

Who invented this very world...


Yog-Sothoth has sympathy,

As Dagon; the Deep One Lord

And not even he can say

What will happen when there remains

A Princess restored on Her throne,

A Princess on Ebony Bone.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Mythos poem.

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Rise, Fall, Rise!

Unrhymed Poetenry

Your enemies will try to crush you,

Your close friends will hurt you,

Your soul may fall down like Icarus,

Yet you have to rise, every time you fall!


Make a choice, work harder,

Have a dream, have a vision,

Start working, start achieving it,

Never give in, never give up!


Take life by the collar!


You can do it, yes you can!

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