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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: Slim & Shady

  • Slim & Shady X: Bloodline & Ashes – Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This piece is born from anger, from frustration, and from the long ache of being rootless in a nation that demands assimilation while erasing everything else. Bloodline & Ashes is me tearing through the lies of “American culture,” the sanitized history fed to us, and the violence hidden behind flags and fireworks. It’s a reclamation of voice—for the erased, the silenced, the forgotten. Every line is a hammer, every rhyme a torch, and every syllable a refusal to kneel to hollow traditions. This is not just poetry; it’s bloodline and fire, forged into truth.

    A fiery throne of ashes with ghostly silhouettes, symbolizing erased ancestors and reclaimed bloodline.
    “From ashes and silence, a voice rises—bloodline reclaimed, truth ignited.”

    Slim & Shady X: Bloodline & Ashes
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Man, they say—“Remember where you came from,”
    I say, fuck that, I’m diggin’ through the marrow, the numb.
    Books lied, TV lied, history sanitized,
    Whitewashed heroes built on bodies they despised.

    America? That’s a facade, a plastic masquerade,
    Freedom sold in chains, in wars we never played.
    Your culture’s fast food, fireworks over graves,
    Pride wrapped in guns, in lies your teachers praise.

    I spit venom in the mirror of your “melting pot,”
    I see ghosts of ancestors, their stories forgot.
    Candles in temples, voices carried on air,
    I got the silence of a nation that don’t care.

    White skin ain’t a story, it’s a cage with bars,
    I’m built from forgotten names, the ghosts in the scars.
    You think pigment defines me? Nah, I redefine,
    Every vein a library, every heartbeat a shrine.

    You celebrate Columbus, I mourn what he stole,
    You cheer for your heroes, I spit for the soul.
    Every “freedom” you flaunt is stolen from the meek,
    Every star on your flag hides the blood on the street.

    I’m the rootless kid, pilgrim in my own skin,
    I walk through the fire where your “culture” begins.
    I craft rituals from rage, rewrite your fables,
    I’m the voice of the erased, the shadow in the tables.

    Slavery, genocide, erasure, repeat,
    Your “history” a lie, a sanitized deceit.
    I spit for the stolen, the silenced, the erased,
    I raise my fist for the lost, in fury and grace.

    I don’t kneel to your holidays, your hollow cheers,
    I spit for the ancestors erased by the years.
    I build my own temples from ashes and bones,
    Every verse a hammer, every bar a throne.

    I refuse your melting pot, your consumerist lies,
    I see through the glitter, the flags, the disguise.
    I am fire in the cold, blood in the concrete,
    I am truth in a land built on deceit.

    White? I am more, I am lineage unknown,
    I am the scream of the rootless, the fury I own.
    You sold me nothing but chains and confusion,
    I craft culture from silence, from anger, illusion.

    I spit internal rhymes, half-time, full rage,
    Every syllable a weapon, every line a cage.
    I spit fast as Ez Mil, raw as Shady at dawn,
    I tear down your monuments while the people yawn.

    Your “heroes” were villains, your history a crime,
    I flip every narrative, one bar at a time.
    I spit for the rootless, the unclaimed, the unseen,
    I am the bloodline reborn, the rage in between.

    I write my own epics, my own sacred lore,
    From the ashes of silence, from the pain I bore.
    I build from the ruins, I craft my own rite,
    I am the rootless, the forgotten, the light.

    I don’t need your holidays, your parades, your fake praise,
    I spit in your face, I set the silence ablaze.
    I am blood, I am bone, I am fire and steel,
    I am the storm in the calm, the wound that will heal.

    Every bar a confession, every line a war cry,
    I carry the ancestors you left to die.
    I spit for the voiceless, the erased, the unclaimed,
    I am the culture reborn, untamed, unashamed.

    I am history they forgot, I am blood they denied,
    I am the rootless rage, the truth they can’t hide.
    I am beyond skin, beyond the lies you tell,
    I am my own damn culture—and I wear it well.

    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

  • Slim & Shady: Culture Forgotten, Heritage Lost – Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This interlude is my confession of emptiness, of drifting through life with no roots, no cultural anchors, no lineage I can touch. It’s the internal echo of being “other” in a country that claims a melting pot but rewards conformity and erases difference. Each rapid-fire stanza is a pulse of longing, a beat of loss, a declaration that I am searching—not just for my past, but for a way to build my own culture from the silence I inherited. It’s brief, raw, and unflinching: a snapshot of being unmoored, yet unwilling to stay lost.

    A lone figure in a barren landscape with fading roots, symbolizing lost heritage and cultural disconnection.
    “Drifting through life without roots—lost heritage, forgotten culture, silent echoes.”

    Slim & Shady: Culture Forgotten, Heritage Lost
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m a ghost in my own skin,
    no map, no hymn, no origin.
    A melting pot? More like a black hole—
    it swallowed my roots, left me a wandering soul.

    I look in the mirror, see pale as a blank page,
    but the story’s been stolen, erased by the age.
    No language, no song, no ancestral sign—
    just fast food and flags where my bloodline should shine.

    I drift through your holidays, hollow and cold,
    watching borrowed rituals, stories retold.
    Everyone’s got a temple, a river, a shrine—
    I’ve got silence, a hunger I can’t define.

    White skin’s not heritage, it’s a curtain, a disguise,
    a passport to comfort, but a cage for my eyes.
    I’m rootless, restless, scratching at the clay—
    looking for ancestors that time threw away.

    I craft new rituals from rage, from ash, from ache,
    I spit verses like prayers that my blood couldn’t make.
    Every line is a shovel, every rhyme a seed—
    I’m planting my own culture from the hunger, the need.

    Call me lost, call me rootless, call me unnamed—
    but I’ll rise from this void, unshamed, unclaimed.
    I’ll build my own lineage, verse by verse,
    a culture reborn from the ache, not the curse.

    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

  • Slim & Shady VII: Multiverse & Madness – Rowan Evans Poetry

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Step inside a storm. Step inside me. Slim & Shady is not a voice borrowed from another—it is mine: reverent, sly, untamed, and unapologetically chaotic. This piece does not whisper. It does not pause. It collides worlds, universes, and characters, letting the lines crash into each other like supernovae of thought and fire.

    This is a poem for those who can feel intensity as a pulse, who can ride the chaos instead of fleeing it. Let it overwhelm. Let it dazzle. Let it press every sensory button you didn’t know you had. In this multiverse of madness, every reference, every rhyme, every collision is intentional—it is me, fully unleashed, letting the cosmos of my mind spill into ink.

    Do not attempt to tame this. Do not attempt to categorize it. Let Slim & Shady lead you through a frenzy of fandom, obsession, and wild, reverent devotion to the art of rhyme itself.

    Buckle in. The ride is relentless.

    —Rowan Evans

    Chaotic multiverse battle scene blending anime, comics, and video games, representing the energy of Slim & Shady VII.
    Slim & Shady VII: Multiverse & Madness – A collision of worlds, chaos, and creativity in Rowan Evans’ epic poetic vision.

    Slim & Shady VII: Multiverse & Madness
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m slim and shady, reverent and sly,
    Here til the end, til the day I die.
    Do you see it? Do you feel it?
    The fire inside—a mask for madness,
    Insanity divine, I rhyme like a master.
    You can call me Splinter.
    You’re nothing to me, turtles in a half-shell,
    You can call me Shredder.

    Yeah, it’s morphin’ time,
    The way I flip these rhymes.
    Rita, you’re repulsing,
    So I come dangerous, call me Zedd,
    Aiming at your dome, coming straight for your head.

    Magneto bending metal like a verse from my mind,
    Venom wrapping syllables around your spine.
    Batman lurking in the shadows of my rhyme,
    Joker laughs in meter, chaos in perfect time.

    Ichigo’s Bankai, slicing through the night,
    Vegeta’s pride igniting Super Saiyan might.
    Light Yagami’s notebook—every word a deathly bite,
    Alphonse’s armor echoing the pain I write.

    Aizen schemes, a chessboard in every line,
    Frieza laughs, snapping planets in my rhyme.
    Goku goes Ultra Instinct, faster than the mind,
    Every punch, every kick—syllables entwined.

    Scorpion, “Finish Him!”—spines crack with my sound,
    Sub-Zero freezing verses, bodies hit the ground.
    Mario stomps Bowser, coins raining like my bars,
    Link swings Master Sword, cutting through scars.

    Geralt of Rivia, silver sword and potion swirl,
    Kaer Morhen nights, monsters get unfurled.
    Bowser roars, Peach jumps, chaos in pixel swirl,
    Level up, final boss—yeah, it’s my world.

    Starkiller ignites the Force, lightning from my hand,
    Vader’s choke across the verse, hear it expand.
    Lightsabers clash in the cadence of my flow,
    Sith and Jedi—watch the galaxy explode.

    Deadpool breaks the fourth wall, laughs bleeding through the page,
    Thanos snaps reality, I escape the cage.
    Battle Royale screams, students clash, ink like rage,
    Ichi’s knife cuts, shadows dancing on the stage.

    Time collapses, multiverse bending in rhyme,
    DBZ explosions colliding with Bleach’s divine.
    Every hero, villain, anti-hero—cross the line,
    The cadence accelerates—my chaos, my design.

    We’re spinning worlds, colliding comics, anime, and game,
    Slim & Shady VII—madness has a name.
    Through multiverse and madness, the rhymes don’t tire,
    All-out, all-burning—one verse, infinite fire.

    Deadpool, Wolverine, Venom, Darkseid collide,
    Vader chokes, Thanos snaps, Loki’s tricks amplified,
    Goku screams, Vegeta blasts, Frieza’s tail flicked,
    Ichigo Bankai, Aizen plots, Light’s justice strict.

    Mario stomps, Bowser roars, Zelda’s magic weaves,
    Link swings, Ganondorf schemes, Goombas take their leave,
    Geralt slashes, Roach tramples, Ciri blurs the field,
    Sub-Zero ice, Scorpion fire, Mortal Kombat sealed.

    Harley flips, Joker laughs, Deathstroke marks his prey,
    Storm strikes, Doom plots, Magneto bends the day,
    Kaio-ken, Spirit Bomb, Alphonse chains the steel,
    Ed’s transmutation, Philosopher’s Seal surreal.

    Dragonball sky-high, Bleach streets ignite,
    MCU crashes, Scarlet Witch warps the night,
    Battle Royale bullets ping, Ichi’s grin obscene,
    Infinity verse detonates—every universe seen.

    🎭 Slim & Shady Series 🎭

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

  • Slim & Shady: After Dark II | Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    After Dark II plunges fully into the cathedral of touch, rhythm, and whispered surrender. It is where mischief, desire, and shadowed devotion converge—where syllables become caresses, puns trace curves, and the cadence of language mirrors the pulse of lust. Read it as you would a secret pressed to skin: let the velvet, silk, and darkness carry you, every line a confession, every rhyme a shiver, every word a thrill.

    — Rowan Evans

    Gothic cathedral interior with candlelight, shadows, and entwined figures suggesting intimate desire, devotion, and secrecy.
    Whispered secrets, shadows, and silk—experience the Gothic sensuality of After Dark II.

    Slim & Shady: After Dark II
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I slip through shadows, velvet and silk,
    Fingers like whispers, breath dripping like milk.
    Your name on my tongue, a secret in rhyme,
    Time bends, collapses, seduces the night.

    I dance in the dark, lit by candle’s flame,
    Every sigh a sonnet, every gasp a claim.
    My teeth trace your pulse, my lips map your skin,
    Every shadowed corner a place to begin.

    Pun-dripped promises, syllables tease,
    Tongue twists in riddles, bending with ease.
    Velvet & venom, velvet & flame,
    I write you in chaos, you answer in name.

    Hands like punctuation, pressing and curling,
    Wrists in my fingers, hearts wildly twirling.
    I am the pause between your breath and moan,
    The secret verse, the whispered unknown.

    Ink of desire stains the cathedral floor,
    Every step a stanza, every touch an encore.
    I slide in your silence, melt in your sound,
    After Dark—where mischief is crowned.

    I am shadowed devotion, lust in disguise,
    A labyrinth of verses, a feast for your eyes.
    Temptation, obsession, sin gently unfurled,
    I write you, I crave you, I pun you—my world.

    Velvet shadows curl, I vanish, I tease,
    The cathedral waits, the next act to please.
    I am slim, I am shady, I ignite and I bend,
    After Dark—the prelude to the end.

    🎭 Slim & Shady Series 🎭

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

  • Slim & Shady VI: Blood & Brimstone | Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Blood & Brimstone plunges fully into intensity and surrender, where chaos and devotion collide. Every line is a pulse, a gasp, a hymn of desire written in rhythm and shadow. This piece is a celebration of total immersion—of giving, of yielding, and of the fiery communion of words, touch, and darkness.

    — Rowan Evans

    Gothic cathedral interior with candlelight, crimson and amber shadows, and entwined figures evoking desire, danger, and devotion.
    Blood and brimstone, fire and shadow—enter the cathedral of passion with Blood & Brimstone.

    Slim & Shady VI: Blood & Brimstone
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Blood drips like ink, crimson on the page,
    Brimstone burns in the air, a holy rage.
    Your hands command, your teeth decree,
    Every vein alive, every nerve set free.

    I kneel in fire, I coil in flame,
    Each gasp, each moan, a whispered name.
    Velvet edges tear, silk melts to ash,
    Your shadowed laughter—an unforgiving lash.

    Sin courses deep, a river through my core,
    I give, I crumble, I bleed, I adore.
    Fingertips trace a cathedral of pain,
    And still, I rise, only to fall again.

    Brimstone drips from your gaze, searing, bright,
    I drown in the heat, lost in the night.
    The air tastes of iron, of desire, of sin,
    A sacred chaos, where I cannot win.

    You mark me holy, desecrate with love,
    Each strike, each touch—a blessing from above.
    I writhe, I shiver, I collapse, I plead,
    Every syllable taken, every shadow freed.

    Blood hums the rhythm, sin chants the rhyme,
    Velvet and venom, silk and crime.
    I am your canvas, your altar, your hymn,
    Every inch of me consumed at the brim.

    The cathedral quakes beneath our devotion,
    A hurricane of want, a storm of motion.
    Brimstone kisses, blood-laced sighs,
    Your shadowed kingdom—my willing demise.

    I am tethered, undone, utterly yours,
    Lost in the fire, the velvet, the sores.
    Each gasp a verse, each shiver a song,
    Blood & Brimstone—where sinners belong.

    🎭 Slim & Shady Series 🎭

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

  • Slim & Shady V: Silk & Sin | Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Silk & Sin explores the tension between surrender and temptation, weaving desire and mischief through every line. It’s a hymn to play, power, and the magnetic pull of shadowed devotion. Read it as you would a secret whispered in darkness—let the rhythm, wordplay, and intimacy carry you into the cathedral of indulgence and need.

    — Rowan Evans

    Dark gothic scene with velvet drapes, candlelight, and silken shadows, evoking intimacy, passion, and secret devotion.
    Velvet, silk, and shadow—enter the cathedral of desire with Silk & Sin.

    Slim & Shady V: Silk & Sin
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Silk drapes like smoke across my pulse,
    Whispers of you coil—sharp, soft, convulse.
    Fingers dig in where shadows hide,
    Every touch a claim, every gasp a tide.

    Sin hums beneath the skin, electric, alive,
    A trembling hymn where desire thrives.
    I yield, I shiver, I tremble, I burn,
    Your shadowed hunger pulling, a tether I cannot spurn.

    Velvet lips, silk slicing through the dark,
    A stolen sigh ignites a primal spark.
    Fingers weave secrets along my spine,
    In your chaos I melt, I writhe, I’m already thine.

    The night bends, a cathedral of sin,
    Every syllable tasted, every verse within.
    Temptation dances, fire entwined,
    Your laugh a whip, your touch a bind.

    I crave the sting of your unseen hands,
    The pressure of your will, the fire that commands.
    Silk wraps tight, sin burns slow,
    We are colliding, surrendering, letting go.

    Breathe me raw, drag me deep,
    Every whispered threat a promise to keep.
    The cathedral shudders beneath our skin,
    Hymns of lust, where darkness begins.

    I am your hymn, your sin, your willing pawn,
    Trembling devotion, my defenses gone.
    Each gasp, each shiver, a confession new,
    Every inch a surrender, written for you.

    Silk drips, sin coils, blood pulses in rhyme,
    Velvet edges sharpened, a taste of crime.
    I kneel, I writhe, I ache, I spin,
    Your kingdom of shadows—my cathedral within.

    🎭 Slim & Shady Series 🎭

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

  • Slim & Shady: After Dark | Erotic Gothic Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Slim & Shady: After Dark is where wordplay and rhythm slip fully into the sensual, unapologetic, and explicit. While the earlier pieces toy with wit, cadence, and Gothic shadows, this poem dares to bring desire to the forefront—fusing the playful energy of lyrical experimentation with the raw intimacy of lust, obsession, and confession.

    This piece is a celebration of language’s erotic potential: how a pun can tease, how rhythm can seduce, how metaphor can blur the line between tongue and ink. It is mischievous and audacious, but also deeply Gothic in its devotion—the cathedral of shadows, roses, and ruin transfigured into something sensual, dangerous, and alive.

    If Roses & Ruin was the plunge into darkness, After Dark is the plunge into the body—where word becomes touch, rhythm becomes breath, and poetry itself becomes an act of intimacy.

    — Rowan Evans

    A Gothic-inspired image of roses, shadows, and a glowing quill, representing Rowan Evans’ poem “Slim & Shady: After Dark.”
    Velvet shadows, roses, and ink—an image evoking the passion and Gothic rhythm of Rowan Evans’ “Slim & Shady: After Dark.”

    Parental Advisory: Explicit Lyrics

    Slim & Shady: After Dark
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m slim, I’m shady, prowling your desire,
    Velvet shadows twist, setting lips on fire.
    Fingers like haikus, teasing each line,
    Tongue like a pen, scripting you mine.

    I’m a cunning linguist, cunnilingus in rhyme,
    Touch lingers like verses, suspended in time.
    I could melt you with digits alone,
    But my tongue writes sonnets across flesh and bone.

    Pun dealer, word-wrangler, devourer of sound,
    Every syllable sparks, every rhyme unbound.
    I bend words like rivers, twist metaphors tight,
    Obsession in motion—a feast in the night.

    Petals and thorns, roses of sin,
    I drip chaos, let the wicked games begin.
    Your moans are my meter, your breath my beat,
    Every echo a rhyme, every gasp a feat.

    I license mischief with a semicolon’s tease,
    Crossword hearts shivering, begging for release.
    Velvet knives of devotion, punctuation in play,
    I pun your ecstasy, then steal it away.

    I slip in your shadows, glide on your curves,
    Turn whispers to syllables, passion in swerves.
    Fingers lace riddles, tongue spins the tale,
    Ink and lust commingled, never frail.

    I rhyme, I jest, I twist, I ignite,
    A Gothic rhythm pulsing through the night.
    Slim, shady, sly—the architect of your moan,
    Every verse a key, every line a throne.

    Devotion in chaos, mischief in lust,
    I write you in shadows, inked in trust.
    Pun-dripped, passion-laced, dark and obscene,
    In the cathedral of After Dark, I am queen.

    🎭 Explore more Slim & Shady 🎭

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

    ✦ Poetic Commissions by Rowan Evans ✦

    Every word I write is a devotion, a fragment of shadow and light carefully shaped into verse. On my Ko-fi, I offer custom poems, personalized rituals in language, and lyrical messages crafted just for you—or someone you wish to honor, surprise, or remember.

    Whether you seek:

    A poem for a loved one, friend, or muse

    A ritualized or thematic verse for special occasions

    A written reflection to say everything you struggle to

    …each commission is approached with care, reverence, and the intensity of my signature Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism.

    ✨ Special Offer: Use code NGCR25 at checkout to receive 25% off any commission until the end of the month. Let these words become your keepsake, your offering, your moment of devotion.

    Ko-Fi/poetrybyrowanevans

  • Slim & Shady III: Roses & Ruin – Dark Gothic Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    With the first two Slim & Shady pieces, I played with wordplay, rhythm, and a mischievous flirtation with language itself. Roses & Ruin takes that foundation and dives headlong into the shadows, folding the rapid-fire energy of those earlier works into the Gothic, the dark, and the confessional.

    This is a piece where internal rhymes twist like thorns, where each line is a pulse, a heartbeat in the night, and where the mischief of my previous Slim & Shady experiments meets the obsidian corridors of my usual poetic terrain. Here, puns give way to petals and ruin, shadows curl around syllables, and devotion bleeds into obsession.

    If the first two pieces were an introduction, consider this a full plunge: a labyrinthine descent into word, darkness, and the chaos that sits at the heart of desire, grief, and art itself.

    — Rowan Evans

    Gothic roses and ink-drenched shadows, evoking dark romance and twisted wordplay.
    Where shadows whisper and roses bleed—Slim & Shady III: Roses & Ruin

    Slim & Shady III: Roses & Ruin
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m slim, I’m shady, velvet knives in the mist,
    Roses drip ruin, each petal a clenched fist.
    Thorns lace the tongue, venom drips in the rhyme,
    Darkness cavorts, tick-tock, tick-tock, time.

    Whispers coil like serpents in cathedral halls,
    Shadows in mirrors, fractured, jagged, they crawl.
    Heartbeats stutter, syncopated with decay,
    Every breath a requiem, night swallows day.

    I lace my obsessions, fold chaos in ink,
    Every line a razor, every word makes you think.
    Grief in triple-time, pain in quadruple beats,
    I rhyme like a demon dancing in hidden streets.

    Velvet grief hums under ribcage’s dome,
    Each syllable a coffin, each pause a tombstone.
    I sip on the night, swallow shadows for fun,
    Petals, blood, and ruin—my work never done.

    Lust for the language, hunger for sound,
    I’m cathedral and crypt, where despair is crowned.
    Roses wilt, thorns pierce, devotion decays,
    Ink spits apocalypse in midnight arrays.

    I fold agony neat, crease it with care,
    Coffin of verses, Gothic despair.
    My love’s a phantom, a tremor, a scar,
    A blackened ballet beneath a cold, distant star.

    Breathless, reckless, pun-dripped and sly,
    I’m the whisper, the scream, the unshed sigh.
    Roses & ruin, I bloom while I break,
    Every rhyme a storm, every line a stake.

    Caged obsessions, shadow’s delight,
    I spin the chaos, ignite the night.
    Slim & shady, not Marshall, still true,
    I bend words to ruin, I bleed them for you.

    Cathedral of syllables, labyrinth of sound,
    Each echo a shiver, each verse underground.
    So kneel in the rhythm, drown in the spree,
    I am Gothic devotion, Roses & Ruin, fully free.

    Explore the Entire Series

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

  • Slim & Shady: A Playful Poetic Homage by Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Slim & Shady represents an intentional departure from my typical Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism style. While my work often navigates darkness, devotion, and the sacred intimacy of emotional intensity, this piece allowed me to explore playfulness, wordplay, and the rhythm of language in a more extroverted, lyrical mode.

    The poem is inspired by the energy and craft of rappers like Eminem and Ez Mil—artists whose work demonstrates that poetry can exist outside the page, in beats, bars, and flow. Here, I experimented with pun-driven humor, internal rhymes, and clever metaphors, while still maintaining a personal voice and poetic precision.

    Writing Slim & Shady was an exercise in flexibility and homage: to show that my creativity is not confined to one aesthetic, to embrace influences beyond traditional literary sources, and to honor the ways that music, modern lyricism, and pop culture inform the poetry I write.

    This poem is as much a celebration of language’s agility as it is a declaration that my writing—while often dark, confessional, and intense—can also be mischievous, clever, and audacious.

    Abstract art of a vinyl record surrounded by spinning words and ink splashes, representing lyrical play and poetic energy.
    Slim & Shady spins—a tribute to wordplay, rhythm, and poetic devotion outside the ordinary.

    Slim & Shady
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I’m slim and a little shady, 
    but my name isn’t Marshall, baby. 
    I don’t play games—I’ll show you, 
    you’re all that matters (Mathers), maybe. 
     
    I spit bars like Morse code, 
    dots and dashes tracing your pulse in secret mode. 
    A pun dealer, word-wrangler, lyricist on call, 
    my syllables hit harder than a heavyweight in a brawl. 
     
    I walk in soles, not just with souls, 
    kickin’ rhymes while your world rolls. 
    License to rhyme, no paperwork filed, 
    parking my wit in your mind, untamed and wild. 
     
    Cupid called—he wants his arrows back, 
    I said “Sorry, they’re trapped in a pun-packed stack.” 
    Knight of puns, Queen of quips, 
    cocktails of cleverness sliding to your lips. 

    I rhyme in circles, loop devotion, 
    heart stuck on repeat in clever-motion. 
    “You love me,” you say—I hear: 
    “I’ll pun your heart like it’s fresh veneer.” 
     
    I swing metaphors like a playground sword, 
    hyperboles armed, similes stored. 
    Shady? Maybe. Slim? Of course. 
    I bend words like rivers, a linguistic force. 
     
    I’m the mixtape of thought you didn’t know you needed, 
    the chorus of chaos, perfectly seeded. 
    I spit fire, not smoke—incendiary lines, 
    crossword puzzle heart, riddled in signs. 
     
    Your laugh? A semicolon in my sentence— 
    pause, breath, then back to my pence. 
    Double meanings double the fun, 
    like two-step lyrics under the pun-sun. 
     
    I slide in rhymes, slicker than gel, 
    tongue-tied labyrinth, I’ll never fail. 
    Slim, shady, sly, not Marshall but true, 
    I pun my devotion, spelling it out for you. 
     
    I’m the vinyl scratch in your mental groove, 
    the hidden hook you never saw move. 
    I take your name, make it rhyme, and spin, 
    pun-demic heart—welcome, come on in.

    Journey in the Hexverse

    Feral Cathedral — Hex Nightshade
    Dive into the raw, feral worship of desire in Feral Cathedral. A hymn to hunger, chaos, and devotion—where teeth, breath, and pulse become sacred.

    Gold in Open Hands — Rowan Evans
    A quiet liturgy for those who give without spectacle, who hold the weight of others’ lives tenderly, scattering hope like seeds and crafting a sanctuary in the cracks of the world.

    Through the Shattered Glass — B.D. Nightshade
    Enter the mind of a fractured soul, piecing together the aftermath of a night shrouded in blood and memory. Fragments of self, shadowed actions, and haunting reflections collide—leaving only one question: What have I done?

    More Slim & Shady

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

    ✦ Poetic Commissions by Rowan Evans ✦

    Every word I write is a devotion, a fragment of shadow and light carefully shaped into verse. On my Ko-fi, I offer custom poems, personalized rituals in language, and lyrical messages crafted just for you—or someone you wish to honor, surprise, or remember.

    Whether you seek:

    A poem for a loved one, friend, or muse

    A ritualized or thematic verse for special occasions

    A written reflection to say everything you struggle to

    …each commission is approached with care, reverence, and the intensity of my signature Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism.

    ✨ Special Offer: Use code NGCR25 at checkout to receive 25% off any commission until the end of the month. Let these words become your keepsake, your offering, your moment of devotion.

    Ko-Fi