Tag: Ez Mil

  • Author’s Note

    Music has always been more than background noise to me.

    It’s emotional architecture.

    There are songs that feel tied to specific versions of myself, specific periods of my life, specific emotional states I don’t know how to explain outside of sound.

    When I write, I usually start with music first. Not ideas. Not themes. Feeling.

    I sit in silence with headphones on and let the music guide me somewhere emotionally honest.

    This piece came from thinking about how deeply international my creative influences really are.

    A lot of the sounds that shaped me came from places I’ve never physically been: the Philippines, South Korea, Japan, Thailand.

    And over time, those influences stopped feeling external. They became part of my emotional language.

    Part of my rhythm. Part of my imagery. Part of how I understand myself creatively.

    Also: yes, “Morning Daughters” is intentional.

    It’s a poetic translation of the J-pop group Morning Musume because the translated phrasing fit the cadence of the piece better.

    That felt appropriate for a poem about translation, transformation, and reshaping influence into something personal.

    Because that’s ultimately what art is.

    Taking in sound, emotion, memory, culture— and turning it into your own voice.

    Rowan Evans


    A poet wearing headphones sits surrounded by music, poetry pages, and dreamlike international city lights blending together.
    Some people travel by plane.
    I travel by sound.

    Sound as a Vessel
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I want to take a moment
    to talk about process—

    the way I’ll sit
    in silence,
    with nothing
    but the sound
    from my headphones.

    I sit, unmoved
    and let the music
    wrap around me.

    I let it guide my emotion
    and lead me where it may.

    This is when I reach
    across shores,
    ignoring borders—

    I reach for the sounds
    that soothe me,
    the sounds that move me
    and make me feel.

    I follow the notes
    like they’re breadcrumbs—

    back to the places
    my body has never lived
    but my heart remembers.

    This is how I travel—

    how I return
    to the versions of myself
    I haven’t met yet.

    I put my headphones on
    and drift away—

    through different worlds,
    from XG to Young Ji—
    MILLI and 4EVE.

    Then I drift back—
    MC Sniper, Outsider
    and Drunken Tiger.

    It’s like I walk
    through time,
    using sound
    as the vessel.

    Then I hit Japan,
    Morning Daughters
    surround me.
    Up next THE GAZETTE,
    then Hamasaki Ayumi. (Queen!)

    These are the sounds
    that shaped my DNA.

    Eminem lit the fire,
    Ez Mil made it brighter.

    I broke teeth
    on Lee Hyori. (Queen!)

    And I’ve expanded,
    put more colors
    on the canvas.

    More lines
    in my rhymes.

    BINI, SB
    19 and G22
    Hev Abi, Skusta Clee,
    Sarah Geronimo too—

    just to change the shape
    of the soundscape.

    I use sound like paint
    to make pictures,
    mix it with my emotions
    to find the perfect hue.


    Journey into the Hexverse…

    [Just Knowing You Has Been Enough]
    “Just Knowing You Has Been Enough” is a deeply vulnerable free verse poem about unspoken love, emotional fear, coded confessions, and the quiet truth of caring for someone without needing perfection in return.

    [The Streets I Walk When I Sleep]
    “The Streets I Walk When I Sleep” is a deeply intimate free verse poem about recurring dreams, emotional connection, longing across distance, and the strange feeling of remembering places and moments that have never happened in waking life.

    [Memories From a Life Yet to Come]
    Some dreams feel less like fantasy and more like memory. “Memories From a Life Yet to Come” is a reflective free verse poem about longing, displacement, emotional alignment, and the strange comfort of recognizing yourself more clearly in dreams than in waking life

    [Separate Timelines]
    “Separate Timelines” is a surreal and deeply introspective free verse poem about emotional distance, time zones, vulnerability, and the fear of losing a connection that already feels meaningful before the words are ever spoken aloud.

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

  • Author’s Note

    Slim & Shady IX: Gods & Monsters is a reckoning—an apex of myth, chaos, and lyrical ferocity. In this piece, Olympus trembles beneath the weight of words, monsters roar, and gods are challenged not by force, but by rhythm, rhyme, and raw audacity.

    This installment celebrates the audacious collision of legend and rebellion, a tribute to the voices that have inspired my craft while marking the evolution of my own. It is a hymn for those who revel in chaos, who understand that power is not only in the divine, but in the sharpness of syllables, the precision of cadence, and the courage to rewrite the canon.

    Read it as you would a storm: let it crack the sky, let it shake the ground, let it echo in your bones. Here, I am both the shadow and the spark, the sinner and the saint, and the lyric that laughs while Olympus falls.

    Rowan Evans


    Rowan Evans-inspired bard confronting gods and monsters atop a crumbling Olympus in epic fantasy style
    Step into the storm—Rowan Evans’ Slim & Shady IX: Gods & Monsters merges myth, rap, and chaos in poetic epicness.

    Slim & Shady IX: Gods & Monsters
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I step into Olympus like a burglar with a grudge,
    my words lightning—zip, crack, jagged—
    splitting the sky between divine and damned.
    Zeus blinks, Apollo spits fire,
    but I don’t flinch, I spit back in kind:
    “Your thunder is borrowed, your glory recycled.
    I’m the storm you whispered of in bedtime tales,
    trained in Multiverse & Madness, tempered in velvet venom.”

    Monsters crawl from shadows—Cerberus grins,
    Hydra heads nod,
    each spit venom in Morse code—“Bow or bleed.”
    I laugh, syllables slicing teeth like blades:
    “Bow? Please. Crowns are gutter trophies.
    Bleed? I bathe in ink, come out polished, primed, and lethal.”
    The echoes of Roses & Ruin taught me subtle cruelty; Olympus is my canvas.

    Athena steps forward, wisdom blazing, spear poised.
    I match her gaze, wordplay lacing her logic:
    “Brains without scars are brittle, goddess.
    Even Olympus cracks; silk & sin whispered the lesson—humility through surrender.”
    Her armor gleams, but I see the cracks—my verses find them, widen them, crown them.

    Hades smirks, shadows curling like smoke:
    “Child, you trespass in my playground.”
    I tip my crown, crooked, cocky:
    “Your playground is a grave. I’m here to haunt you tonight.”
    Each line a hammer, each pause a guillotine.
    Brimstone hums in my veins; Blood & Brimstone sang the prep, now I dance.

    Monsters cheer, gods frown,
    and I don’t care—
    I spit verses like bullets ricocheting off marble and bone.
    Word for word, myth for myth,
    I am the chaos in their canon,
    the question mark in every prophecy.

    Poseidon crashes oceans at my feet,
    but I rhyme tidal waves into whispers,
    turn floods into fountains that crown me in silver and ash.
    The monsters howl; the gods bite lips.
    Velvet & Venom drips from every syllable.

    “Gods of Olympus, Monsters of myth, listen—
    I am ink staining legends,
    the echo rewriting epics.
    You think in absolutes; I think in fractures.
    You worship power; I worship voice.
    You claim eternity; I claim truth.
    Bow if you must. Tremble if you can.
    I am both: shadow and spark, sinner and saint,
    the lyric that laughs while heavens fall.”

    Thunder cracks. Cerberus snarls.
    Hydra hisses in unison.
    Athena blinks. Hades pauses.
    And in the silence that follows, I roar:
    “Gods. Monsters. Try me.”


    If you are interested in reading the whole series, find it here: The Slim & Shady Series

    And if you just want to read more of my work, you can find that here: The Library of Ashes