money poetry – Poetry by Rowan Evans

Hedge Funds (Not My Fun) | A Funny Pun-Filled Poem by Rowan Evans

Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

Some poems arrive carrying trauma, existential questions, complicated metaphors, and enough symbolism to fill a cathedral.

This one showed up carrying a fucking pun.

Hedge Funds (Not My Fun) is deliberately stupid. I wanted to play with sound, names, word associations, and the increasingly questionable logic of a joke that refuses to die. Sometimes the page doesn’t need another emotional excavation—it just needs to have a little fun.

So yes, this is a poem about hedge funds.

No, I don’t actually have any.

And apparently, neither does my fun.

— Rowan Evans

The hedge has funds. The funds aren’t mine. Therefore, the fun remains tragically unfunded.

Hedge Funds (Not My Fun)
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I think I’m so fucking funny—
I’ll make a Big Pun,
while lookin’ like a Pimp
C—but you can’t see me,
like my name is John
and my time is now—

or at least, I hope it is.
Because I’m trying to get my funds up,
yeah, I want to get my fun up—
so I stack my funds
as high as my hedges—

get it?

Hedge Fund.

That means the money isn’t mine—

so I’m stacking some funds high,
they’re just not my funds, and—
because they’re not my funds,
they do not fund my fun, man.

Journey into the Hexverse

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

Oct 16, 2026 5:00 PM

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Money Can’t Buy Happiness—If You’re a Miserable Bitch | A Humorous Poem About Money & Happiness by Rowan Evans

Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

“Money can’t buy happiness” has always sounded a little too tidy to me.

Money can absolutely buy comfort, convenience, security, experiences, and a whole lot of things that can make life easier. Pretending otherwise misses the point. But there’s a difference between making life more comfortable and making yourself happy.

Money Can’t Buy Happiness—If You’re a Miserable Bitch takes that familiar saying, argues with it, insults it a little, and then lands somewhere in the middle: money might change your circumstances, but it can’t do the internal work for you.

If you’re miserable before the money arrives, there’s a decent chance you’ll just become a wealthier miserable person.

So, yeah.

Bitch, please.

— Rowan Evans

Money can buy the room. It can’t decide what happens inside your head.

Money Can’t Buy Happiness—If You’re a Miserable Bitch
Poetry by Rowan Evans

They say money can’t buy happiness—
and honestly, that’s half true.
Money doesn’t buy happiness,
money buys things—
and things bring happiness
for a minute it seems—
but money can’t buy happiness?

Bitch, please—
that sounds like something
somebody with money
would say—

because it’s not the cash
that brings the smile,
it’s the ease
the cash brings—

so they say
money can’t buy happiness,
but they’re only half right—

money can’t buy happiness—
if you’re a miserable bitch.

You’ve got to already be happy and shit,
so learn to love what you’ve got.
Because when the money comes,
and you’re swimming in funds—
if you’re not already happy
with where you’re at?

You’ll never be happy after that.

Journey into the Hexverse

[Sick Bird]
A short, uncompromising political metaphor that questions the fixation on left versus right when the entire system may be sick. Through the image of a collapsing bird, the poem confronts division, corruption, and the consequences of ignoring the larger failure.

[For the Youth (Remix)]
A 2026 remix of Rowan Evans’s original 2024 poem, encouraging young people to embrace their truth, recognize their worth, raise their voices, and become the light they want to see in the world.

[Rose & Ruin]
Two minimalist poems exploring the opposing forces within creativity: the thoughts we cultivate into something beautiful and the darker thoughts we transform before they have a chance to decay.

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

Oct 6, 2026 5:00 PM

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Graveyard Pockets | A Poem About Money, Power, and Redistribution

Rowan Evans

Author’s Note

This piece isn’t about greed or excess.
It’s about intention.

About money as a tool instead of a god,
and the difference between hoarding wealth
and redistributing it with purpose.

“Dead presidents” aren’t worshipped here —
they’re repurposed.
Laid to rest, then put back into circulation.

This poem lives in that tension:
wanting enough power to make a difference,
without letting that power define who you are.

— Rowan Evans

Turning the bank into a wake—
not to mourn wealth,
but to redistribute it.

Graveyard Pockets
Poetry by Rowan Evans

I don’t need money
to come to me.
I don’t need wealth
to be happy.
I just…

I want to turn my
pockets into graveyards,
fill ’em with dead presidents.
Then I’ll spread the wealth,
like I’m robbing the grave.

Turn the bank,
to a wake—
cash laid out like lilies,
big withdraw on
a day of remembrance.

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

Feb 8, 2026 12:05 AM

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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: money poetry

Hedge Funds (Not My Fun) | A Funny Pun-Filled Poem by Rowan Evans

Money Can’t Buy Happiness—If You’re a Miserable Bitch | A Humorous Poem About Money & Happiness by Rowan Evans

Graveyard Pockets | A Poem About Money, Power, and Redistribution