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Poetry by Rowan Evans

Tag: spoken word poetry

  • Government Time-Out – A Sharp Satirical Poem on Power and Accountability | Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Governments Behaving Badly: A Satirical Poetry Series [pt. 2]

    Author’s Note

    If Raising Governments is the exhale—laughter edged with frustration—then Government Time-Out is what comes after.

    The moment humor fades, and what’s left is clarity.

    This piece strips the satire down to something quieter, more direct. It’s still framed through the language of discipline, but the tone shifts from playful to firm—less about calling out behavior, and more about demanding accountability.

    There’s a difference between reacting and reflecting. Between explaining something away and actually sitting with it.

    Government Time-Out lives in that space.

    No noise.
    No spin.
    Just the uncomfortable weight of consequence.

    Because sometimes the most powerful thing you can do…
    is stop talking—and finally listen.

    — Rowan Evans

    Symbolic illustration of political figures portrayed as misbehaving children in a chaotic environment, representing satire and accountability.
    No more excuses. Sit with it.

    Government Time-Out
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Sit down.
    No—actually, sit.

    We’re not doing this today.
    Not the yelling,
    not the threats,
    not the “I know better” attitude.

    You’ve had centuries
    to prove that.

    And yet—
    here we are.

    Hands in the cookie jar,
    crumbs on your face,
    still trying to say
    it wasn’t you.

    Really?

    You think we don’t see it?

    All the broken plates,
    the slammed doors,
    the mess you keep calling
    “necessary.”

    No.

    You don’t get to break things
    and call it order.

    You don’t get to hurt people
    and call it policy.

    So here’s what’s gonna happen.

    You’re going to sit there—
    quietly—
    and think about
    what you’ve done.

    No speeches.
    No spin.
    No rewriting the story
    to make yourself the hero.

    Just sit with it.

    Feel it.

    For once.

    And when you’re ready
    to act right—
    we’ll talk.

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

  • Raising Governments – A Satirical Poem About Political Immaturity | Rowan Evans

    Rowan Evans

    Governments Behaving Badly: A Satirical Poetry Series [pt. 1]

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes the only way to process the state of the world is to laugh at it.

    Raising Governments takes the chaos, contradictions, and immaturity often seen in global leadership and reframes it through something familiar: parenting. Not out of cruelty – but out of exhaustion. The kind that comes from watching the same mistakes repeat, over and over again.

    This piece leans into satire, using humor to highlight a deeper frustration – how systems meant to lead can sometimes feel reactive, impulsive, and disconnected from the people they affect.

    At its core, this isn’t just about governments.
    It’s about accountability.

    And the strange reality of feeling like the adults in the room… aren’t.

    — Rowan Evans

    Symbolic illustration of political figures portrayed as misbehaving children in a chaotic environment, representing satire and accountability.
    Sometimes the people in power act like children—and someone has to call it out.

    Raising Governments
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Why are governments
    actin’ like bad kids,
    needing their ass whipped?
    Go and get the switch—
    you pick. We’re going back
    to the 90s and before.
    No corners for you, no more.

    I’m not mad, I’m just—
    disappointed.
    I’ll turn this car around.
    Don’t think I won’t,
    I can see you in the rear view.
    This is gonna hurt me,
    more than it does you.

    As soon as we get home,
    everyone to your rooms.
    I need a minute to breathe—
    collect myself.
    And your attitudes…
    they don’t help.

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

  • Alphabet Attitude – A Short Rage Poem About Language, Anger, and Wordplay

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes anger doesn’t arrive in long speeches–it shows up in fragments, sharp and sudden.

    Alphabet Attitude plays with language the way frustration plays with the mind: out of order, sarcastic, and biting. What begins as a playful twist on the alphabet quickly unravels into something more honest–a confession that sometimes rage hides inside humor and wordplay.

    Every letter becomes a weapon. Every syllable carries a feeling that refuses to stay quiet.

    — Rowan Evans

    Abstract image of scattered alphabet letters glowing red in a dark background representing anger and wordplay in poetry.
    Sometimes the alphabet isn’t for spelling—it’s for attitude.

    Alphabet Attitude
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    Alphabet Attitude
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I got an attitude
    like the alphabet—
    A, B, D, C, E, F—
    You.

    Aye, B—
    Did you C the way I feel?
    Every line, every letter,
    everything’s unreal.

    Fucked up, messed up,
    twisted through and through,
    and yeah—it’s all
    because of
    you.

    Every syllable, sharp like a knife,
    spitting letters, spitting rage,
    this is my life.

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

  • Refusing the Script: A Poem About Rejecting Expectations and Conformity

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    Sometimes people expect you to play a role they’ve already written for you. A role shaped by their fears, their politics, or their idea of what loyalty should look like.

    This poem is about refusing that script.

    — Rowan Evans

    A spotlight illuminating a torn script on an empty stage symbolizing refusing expectations and imposed roles.
    Sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is refuse the role others expect you to play.

    Refusing the Script
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    I feel I lost my voice
    in a way,
    put pen to page,
    learned the cost to say—
    translating rage,
    when writing
    came to stay.

    Breaking bars
    on the mental cage,
    so I could escape.
    I’m no actor—
    I don’t perform,
    but life’s a stage.

    I can hear
    your expectations,
    the way you
    judge from fear—
    and manipulation.
    You see,
    I’ve dwelled within
    emotion.

    You can’t twist my thoughts,
    to change my view,
    set in stone, not glass—
    solid, not see-through.

    I’m no actor—
    I won’t perform
    for your applause.
    I won’t play my part,
    won’t fall in line.
    Won’t pledge allegiance,
    show no hollow pride.
    And you simply
    cannot convince me,
    to see no value
    in a human life.

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

  • Fancy Footwork: A Poem About Craft, Instinct, and Creative Precision

    Rowan Evans

    Author’s Note

    This poem is about muscle memory.

    Not the physical kind, but the kind you build over years of showing up — writing through doubt, through silence, through the versions of yourself that didn’t yet know how strong they were becoming.

    Fancy Footwork uses boxing as metaphor, but the real fight happens on the page and in the mind. Every dodge, every feint, every combination comes from long preparation — from learning how to move with intention instead of panic.

    This isn’t bravado. It’s recognition.

    Twenty-three years of practice doesn’t look like luck. It looks like instinct.

    — Rowan Evans

    An abstract illustration of a poet-boxer formed from ink, mid-movement, symbolizing writing as a disciplined and practiced art.
    Writing is muscle memory — every move learned, every strike intentional.

    Fancy Footwork
    Poetry by Rowan Evans

    When I put pen to paper,
    my ink becomes a cage
    on the page
    the way I write bars.

    Yeah, my ink flows—
    it floats
    like a butterfly,
    stings like a bee.

    Hit you with that
    one, two and three.
    Right jab, left hook—
    followed by an uppercut.

    It’s fancy footwork,
    the way my ink glides
    and slides across the page.
    It’s a dance,
    choreographed—
    every line precise.

    I duck,
    slip, dodge
    and throw a feint.
    Misdirect,
    then change direction,
    onslaught,
    raining fists.

    Watching everyone
    that considers themselves
    opposition—
    losing their minds,
    as I
    continue to gain
    position.

    They aren’t even
    competition.
    Nobody will
    stop me
    on my ascension.

    Eyes focused
    on the mission.

    I will climb the ladder
    one rung at a time.
    Watch my ranking rise,
    win after win,
    fight after fight—
    see the smile on my face?
    This is
    my championship chase,
    I will claim
    the top place.

    I’ve been preparing for this
    for twenty-three years.
    Shadowboxing
    inside the lines,
    it was me
    versus my mind.

    I was—
    hitting the gym,
    testing reflexes
    building the instinct,
    to move
    the way poetry flows.

    Movement so quick,
    I hit like a flash—
    every jab,
    lands like prose.

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