←

Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Absurd Humor

  • Question Math. Question Fish. | A Surreal Conspiracy Satire Poem by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    What happens when you stop questioning the big questions and start questioning the stupid ones?

    Question Math. Question Fish. takes a perfectly ordinary equation and refuses to leave it alone. Two plus two should be simple—but apparently we’ve got corporations, aquatic conspiracies, suspicious fish classifications, and an entire Aquarium Industrial Complex to investigate.

    This piece is deliberately ridiculous. It borrows the language of conspiracy theories, institutional distrust, and “wake up, sheeple” rhetoric and points it directly at things that absolutely do not need a conspiracy theory.

    Because maybe the joke isn’t whether two plus two equals four.

    Maybe the joke is how quickly we can convince ourselves that anything deserves suspicion if we stare at it long enough.

    So question the math.

    Question the fish.

    Question the catfish.

    And, obviously, question everything.

    — Rowan Evans

    A poet investigates a surreal conspiracy involving mathematical symbols, goldfish, catfish, calculators, and an aquarium.
    Two plus two equals four. The fish, however, remain under investigation.

    Question Math. Question Fish.
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Two plus two
    equals four,
    or does it?

    You see—
    Big Math
    would have you
    believe—

    numbers mean something—

    they don’t…

    numbers are a joke.
    A figment, imaginary at best—
    two plus two might as well
    equal goldfish.

    And what’s a goldfish anyway?
    Fish or gold, make up your mind—
    and don’t get me started on catfish,
    ’cause what is this shit?

    Cats don’t even like water.
    Now one is a fish?
    Get real, bitch.

    Don’t listen to this shit—
    Big Aquarium just tryin’ to get slick.

    One fish, two fish—
    red fish, blue fish—
    these companies
    are lying
    to you, bitch.

    And how does one fish—
    become two fish?
    And a red fish—
    into a blue fish?

    You wish.

    It’s Big Math
    and the Aquarium Industrial Complex
    working together
    to warp reality—
    a fish isn’t gold,
    a fish isn’t a cat—
    but these people think that
    we’re stupid,
    we don’t see what they’re doing—

    two plus two
    equals four,
    are you sure?

    Open your eyes.
    Wake up.
    Think for yourself.
    Question Math.
    Question Fish.

    Question.
    Everything.

    Journey into the Hexverse

    [The Playground]
    What happens when mythology stops being something to hide behind and becomes architecture for the imagination? The Playground (Language, Metaphors and More) explores Rowan Evans’s relationship with language, symbolism, metaphor, humor, and twenty-three years of turning the page into a place where anything can happen.

    [All for Me]
    When thunder becomes applause, lightning turns into paparazzi, and rain rolls out a flooded red carpet, one poet starts wondering whether nature’s celebration has gone a little too far.

    [Love Me From Over There]
    A sharp and humorous poem about the strange contradiction of wanting someone close while simultaneously needing them to stay several feet away from your face.

    [It’s Almost Like I Know What I’m Doing]
    A self-aware reflection on nearly three decades of writing, discovering how rage became rhythm, pain became poetry, and comedic timing became another tool in the poet’s arsenal.

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]

  • Raccoons in Silk Pajamas | An Absurdist Free Verse Poem About Language Letting Loose

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem started where a lot of my more playful pieces begin: with a chain reaction of absurd images that refused to behave.

    I didn’t sit down with a structure in mind. I just let the language run until it started building its own logic—one that doesn’t really care about realism, linear progression, or whether raccoons should realistically be wearing silk pajamas in the first place.

    The “Space Chickens” at the beginning weren’t planned as a motif. They became one because they felt like the kind of strange, mildly accusatory presence that only makes sense in a world where camels are in parked cars and elephants are stored in jam jars.

    From there, the poem just escalates.

    Raccoons appear. Then llamas. Then the question of pajamas becomes a philosophical problem. Somewhere in the middle, the poem realizes it is no longer interested in consistency—it’s interested in momentum.

    There’s a moment where the speaker tries to impose logic:

    “Don’t be absurd.”

    But by that point, absurdity has already won.

    What I find interesting about this piece is that it still has a kind of emotional continuity even without narrative stability. It moves the way thoughts move when you’re tired, distracted, or laughing at your own internal associations—jumping from one idea to another through sound, memory, and cultural reference rather than logic.

    Even the ending, with its sudden shift into pop culture and cinematic reference, is less about conclusion and more about acknowledgment. The poem becomes aware of itself mid-collapse and decides to lean into it rather than resolve it.

    In that sense, it’s not really about raccoons.

    It’s about the way language behaves when you stop trying to control it.

    And sometimes, that’s where the most honest writing shows up.

    — Rowan Evans

    A raccoon wearing silk pajamas rides a llama beneath a colorful cosmic sky filled with surreal creatures and absurd imagery.
    When logic leaves the room, language starts having fun.

    Raccoons in Silk Pajamas
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I had to get away
    from the Space Chickens,
    they were a little too judgmental—

    always questioning what I wore,
    shouting implied curses
    spoken in cursive.

    It was camels in parked cars,
    elephants in jam jars…

    Now it’s—

    raccoons in silk pajamas,
    and they’re not alone—
    they’re riding llamas.

    “Are the llamas
    wearing silk pajamas?”

    Don’t be absurd.
    That’s the weirdest thing
    I’ve ever heard—

    llamas in pajamas?

    No, just raccoons
    and bananas.

    I was once a
    farmer on Pluto,
    a librarian on Mars—
    a poet amongst the stars.
    Now I’m just
    an astronaut in the ocean,
    rolling in the deep.

    Dude—
    you just referenced Adele.

    Like it is 2001 again.
    It’s a Space Odyssey

    Journey into the Hexverse…

    See where it all began.

    [Pluto Farmer]
    A whimsical absurdist poem about being a certified weirdo, farming space carrots on Pluto, and refusing to fit into anyone else’s definition of “normal.”

    If you’re interested in more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]