irreverent poetry – Poetry by Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

Sometimes the loudest hater in the room is the one you brought with you.

Walk-A-Block in Flames started with the idea of imaginary critics—the voices that somehow manage to find fault with everything you do, even when nobody else is actually saying a damn thing. Naturally, my brain decided the appropriate response was to turn that internal conflict into a ridiculous walk around the block, throw in some wordplay, and see how many times I could make the joke work before the poem eventually turned the joke back on me.

Because beneath all the flames, bravado, and fake enemies, there’s a much simpler realization:

Sometimes the person I’m arguing with is me.

And honestly?

That’s probably the funniest part.

— Rowan Evans

A poet walks around a city block engulfed in symbolic flames while shadowy figures representing imaginary haters follow behind. — *Plot twist: the haters were imaginary, and unfortunately, they had my voice.*

Walk-A-Block in Flames
Poetry by Rowan Evans

They tell me,
these imaginary haters,
that I’ve fuckin’ created—
they live inside my head,
feeding on my self-doubt—
obsessed with burning the self-down.

They make me take a walk,
a walk around a block
and it’s fucking hot—
I guess you could say,
these imaginary haters made me,
Waka Flocka Flame.

Wait—

I meant to say—
these haters made me
Walk-A-Block In Flames.

Honestly though,
I don’t know
what the fuck
they hate me for—

Is it because my wrist froze?
Nope, I’m broke—
Because I’m the best to ever do it?
Nope, that’s a joke—

Is it because they say
the things I think about me?
Couldn’t be—
because I think I’m great,
and these haters are fake.

I mean literally fake,
figments—
they don’t exist,
it’s just me in this bitch.

Hi, it’s me…

I’m the fuckin’ problem.

Journey into the Hexverse

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

Author’s Note

Sometimes “I don’t give a fuck” isn’t really apathy. Sometimes it’s exhaustion, overextension, or finally realizing that not everything deserves a piece of you.

The Fucks I Give takes that idea and turns it into a ridiculous little accounting problem. If I’ve been handing out fucks like they’re an unlimited resource, eventually I’m going to have to audit the books, collect the outstanding balance, and start charging interest.

Underneath the jokes and profanity is something I’m actually pretty serious about: learning to be selective with what gets my attention, my energy, my emotions, and my time.

Because giving a fuck can be an act of love.

So can taking your fucks back.

— Rowan Evans

A poet reclaims glowing tokens representing emotional energy from a surreal gothic ledger surrounded by notebooks, receipts, fountain pens, and raven feathers. — *Apparently, my fucks weren’t free. I’m just finally collecting the outstanding balance.*

The Fucks I Give
Poetry by Rowan Evans

They said I’m too apathetic,
actin’ like nothing matters,
and it’s pathetic—
they want me to give a fuck,
but shit, I misplaced my bag of fucks—
so I’ve got no fucks to give.

Yeah, I’ll go through
and take all my fucks back—

I’ll walk right up and knock, like—
I’m here to collect my fucks,
and extra fucks too—
it’s a fucking tax,
and there is interest, dude.

You think fucks are endless.

No, I’ve got to be pickier—
because for a minute there,
it was—

fuck everything
and that’s probably
what they’re angry for.

It was fuck this and fuck that—
I was running out of fucks fast.

Now, I just want my fucks back.

Journey into the Hexversr

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

Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: irreverent poetry

Walk-A-Block in Flames | A Funny Poem About Self-Doubt & Inner Critics

The Fucks I Give | A Funny Poem About Boundaries, Apathy & Emotional Energy