Hey what’s up, guys? It’s Michael Schwab, Potpourri editor of the Rutgers Review. A lot of you have been asking us: Hey, just what in the heck is going on between the Medium and the Rutgers Review? Now I know what it looks like. The guys write a couple of iambics with some vague assertions involving the access code to our sacred core, and everybody gets all Tupac and Biggie on us, like we’re gonna start a fight in the lobby of the Ale n’ Wich when the piff runs out and the hos leave. It’s what I call a reverse press war, also known in various academic spheres as scelesta advertum bellum. It’s a very common phenomenon. In reality, the Medium and the Review are very good friends. Sometimes they call us on the weekends. Or they used to call me on the weekends. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I don’t know. Sometimes at night I start forgetting what she looks like, like everyday I lose a little piece of her, you know? Wait, what were we talking about again? Oh yeah, the Medium. Well, listen up. I wrote this sonnet about my own, personal, sincere, loosely affiliated, adequately regulated relationship with the staff of the Medium.
A Sonnet for The Medium
By Michael Schwab
I wrote a sonnet for the Medium,
A paper so invective, yet in jest
My thoughts came to a halt and through my tears
I spread my legs unto the sacred page
Daunted, I spoke freely to the masses
My face became a rose but then black smoke
Blinded by the anger you embody
To any Fury left in me, awake
Danger, danger speaking now with anger
Let fire in my skin and seize me raw
Danger, I am speaking now with fear
Violence, I invoke you as my shelter
Let ne’re a word be sacrificed for pride
To feel alive, to feel alive, to die.
Michael Schwab is an English and Classics major and a senior in the School of Arts and Sciences. He has maintained excellent ranks and exceeded all preliminary evaluations, therefore excluding him from the Fate of the Forlorn. He is being promoted to the School of Post-Reactionary Necrology. Amen.