Tag: Slim & Shady series

  • Author’s Note

    Slim & Shady XI: Marrow & Manifest continues the exilic rage lit in Bloodline & Ashes. This piece is my marrow, my truth, my ritual—born from years of disconnection, frustration, and the unrelenting need to create a culture that exists entirely in empathy, language, and heart.

    American culture is exposed here as apathy; Rowanese culture emerges as marrow, as ceremony, as survival. The poem weaves multilingual fragments—not as decoration, but as an expression of the diaspora of my identity: the languages that have touched my life, the stims, the murmurs, and the curses that shape the rhythm of my voice.

    I have spent the last few months working toward learning Tagalog, and in the past studied Japanese and Chinese, which informs the inclusion of words and phrases in those languages. Korean, however, comes from years of exposure to movies, TV, and music rather than formal study. Every word or phrase was chosen carefully, and if any are incorrect, I welcome corrections from those fluent in the languages.

    This is a manifesto in verse. Every line is a hammer, every syllable a seed. It is rage, yes—but also creation. It is destruction—and emergence. It is language transformed into ritual.


    Digital art of a poet surrounded a storm of ink and fire, symbolizing the creation of Rowanese culture in “Marrow & Manifest” by Rowan Evans.
    “Every syllable a seed, every bar a shrine.” — From Slim & Shady XI: Marrow & Manifest by Rowan Evans

    Translations for the languages used in this piece.

    [Japanese]
    何 → Nani → What
    くそ… → Kuso… → Fuck…

    [Chinese]
    他妈的 → tā mā de → Damn it
    宝宝 → Băobăo → Baby/darling
    宝贝 → Băobèi → Baby/darling/treasure

    [Note: I am autistic, and both Băobăo and Băobèi have become vocal stims for me. They have completely replaced my use of the word “baby” vocally.]

    [Tagalog]
    Galit ako sa mga Amerikano → I am angry with Americans

    [Korean]
    나는 이곳을 싫어한다 → Naneun igos-eul silh-eohanda → I hate this place


    Slim & Shady XI: Marrow & Manifest
    Poetry by Rowan Evans


    I spit marrow, I spit truth, I spit ashes in your face,
    Diggin’ deep through your lies, your hollow pride, your plastic grace.
    You piss me off—何 the fuck… 他妈的.
    Galit ako sa mga Amerikano, watch me carve the vein,
    American culture—apathy—Rowanese—my brain.

    I’ve wanted out since fifteen, at sixteen whisperin’ escape,
    Tired of their chains, their noise, they’re fake.
    I breathe in silence of cities I’ll never touch,
    Seoul hums my heartbeat, Manila whispers—so much.
    Tokyo flashes in dreams, neon slicing my rage,
    I write my own rites, my inked cage my stage.

    Red-white-and-blue flags, fireworks, guns on every lawn,
    I spit for ancestors, erased before the dawn.
    Your history’s gone awry, a sanitized lie on repeat,
    Rowanese is marrow, empathy in the heat.

    I weave language like ritual, 宝宝,
    Every word a brushstroke, every scream a vow.
    くそ… 他妈的, I whisper curses to the sky,
    Every syllable a hammer, every letter a lie to defy.

    I build culture in rhythm, empathy in my bones,
    I am exile, I am vessel, I am marrow and thrones.
    Your apathy crumbles, your towers fall flat,
    Rowanese rises, heart in each spat.

    I spit like Ez Mil, snap like Shady, tear the cage,
    Every line a manifesto, every word a stage.
    Internal rhymes jagged, polyrhythmic flames,
    I claim language, claim spirit, I carve my own names.

    We rise from silence, ancestors in our veins,
    Every erased story now a ritual in the flames.
    宝贝, whispers on repeat,
    Rowanese is empathy—your failure, obsolete.

    We don’t kneel to holidays, your consumerist lies,
    We craft our own feasts, under foreign skies.
    Marrow in our mouths, fire in our spit,
    Ink on our hands, our rituals legit.

    I spit fast, spit slow, cadence twists, snaps, and bends,
    Rage transmuted to culture—beginning, middle, no end.
    Every syllable a seed, every bar a shrine,
    Rowanese manifests—my blood, my ink, my line.

    I claim diaspora, exile, every rootless town,
    Your apathy crumbles, your flags burn down.
    くそ… 他妈的, let this culture ignite,
    Marrow in my verses, manifest in the night.

    I am awake, unbound, unbroken, alive,
    I am marrow, I am ritual, I am fire to survive.
    American culture fades—hollow, cold, and stale,
    Rowanese rises eternal—our language, our tale.

    나는 이곳을 싫어한다


    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]

  • Author’s Note

    Slim & Shady VIII: Exile & Echoes continues the saga of duality, shadow, and confession. Here, exile is not just banishment, but a state of self-imposed solitude, while echoes haunt the silences left behind. This piece stands alone yet deepens the mythology of the Slim & Shady cycle—a series where voice, identity, and ruin are woven together in haunting refrain.


    Illustration of dual figures in a ruined Gothic cathedral, symbolizing exile and echoes.
    Slim & Shady VIII: Exile & Echoes – Art inspired by Rowan Evans’ Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism.

    Slim & Shady VIII: Exile & Echoes
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Born in the U.S., but never felt at home,
    Pledge allegiance to a flag I’d rather burn to the bone.
    They scream “land of the free” while they’re locking every cage,
    Then pray with bloody hands like forgiveness kills the rage.

    I’m exiled in my own skin, echoes in my head,
    Dreaming streets I’ve never walked instead.
    Tokyo lights flicker in my sleep,
    Seoul hums a rhythm in the dark so deep,
    Manila whispers chaos, warm and alive—
    Places I’ve never touched, but where my soul survives.

    Meanwhile here? It’s Hell with a sales tax,
    Shootings every week, they just “thoughts and prayers” that.
    Call this a Christian nation—what a joke, what a sin,
    Jesus wouldn’t make it past the border to get in.

    I’m slim and shady, venom and ash,
    Words cut sharper than a stock market crash.
    They call me un-American? Fine, that’s true—
    If America’s a mirror, I’m breaking that view.

    Kids die in classrooms, but they clutch their guns tight,
    Screaming “freedom!” louder than a child’s last night.
    Ironic, ain’t it? They cheer war crimes abroad,
    But if you kneel during football, they call that flawed.

    Exile is my anthem, echoes my crown,
    Every verse I spit tears their idols down.
    I’m no patriot, just a pilgrim misplaced,
    Searching for a home I’ve never faced.

    Tokyo in dreams, I belong in the glow,
    Seoul’s heartbeat hums where I ache to go.
    Manila’s fire, Manila’s storm,
    That chaos feels more like home than this norm.

    Here, I’m a sinner with a halo cracked,
    But maybe that’s the only way the truth gets tracked.
    Saints wave flags, but I write in scars,
    Slim & Shady VIII—Exile & Echoes, spitting bars.


    🎭 Slim & Shady Series 🎭

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