Here's my hot take on the gender war (in dialogue):

INCEL
And now to quell my incelibacy,
And th'esoteric afterglow to see,
To th'greatest of bald men, the Totter Tate,
Who wields the Pylian scepter, percolate
My counsels up I, O, THE BALDEST PATE,
More knowing than the Ithacensían
Who Nausicaa in awe enflamed within.
These beauteous ladies with fair wrists and shins
Dressed sweet to woo instruct me how to write:
One maid brands me "Attached avoidant wight."
Another one says "Blacker than the night
His vulgar verse and pen." Another pleads,
"More feminine than me without his weeds."
Assist me, lippéd man, so I may spread
Like Abraham was promiséd my seed.

TATE
The wooing way is merely method son,
When practiced well, e'en any swain anon
May find the way to turn a maiden on.
I've suffered greatest persecutíon.
E'en (second) greatest wooer Ovid was
Far banished to Romania for no cause.
I, foremost Hero of the Gender War,
Who maidens' skirts and netherworlds can breach,
With wooing wound my way to e'en the far
Forbidden Stygian woods day woes to reach.
And in my storied days I'll say I've seen
Sights blesséd, tasted every hue and sheen
Of feminine that wields the girly glance,
But none have held me trapped in such a trance,
As th'ones who fair Androgyny commands:
In face of their divinely subtle stance,
On gradíent of boy and girl they dance,
No pleasure else would have me look askance
But trace their stocking'd legs to find the glans
To give it head with my bald head or chance
To duel my Roman spear against her lance.
Ah yes to woo these angels I shall find
An introduction fit for boyishkind
As when I did advice give to unbind
Great Troy's chevaux de frise to ply the way
To Helen's guarded heart. Like so we may,
In this fraught hower, poor straight lonely mens
Lift up before the wrack adolescence
In balding zoomer skinnyfats would well
Achillean rage contained in an incel.
A universal phrase which may assert
A path that winds your way into their skirt
I now unsheath: Say, "May I meet you." Curt
In its approach, with even parity
(None of your usúal vulgarity),
And dashingly polite, with grammar fine,
The dame will fall without the help of wine.
Now mark, a hurdy-gurdy man comes near
In tattered rags and maskéd eyes and ear
Well-tuned to Eros' lusty lips in fear.
He sings,

HURDY-GURDY MAN
My friendss! Altho my Muse exchanged
My eyes for her whispers, I see through them:
To crawl these shins to skirt will see arranged
The opposite device judged at the hem.
Don't fret, I have a theóry which may
Lead out of Juno's bridal strifes, a gay
Soft whispered vision well tells me the fate
To waylay strife of games in dame and date,
And bring this war itself into defeat,
So music make out of our vulgar bleat.
Yes friendss, I've tasted fruits prefiguring
A paradise, which oer the harp to bring,
To marry, this pink Air to pen and swing
One this way and one that way, I now sing:
If boys and girls the world of birds employ,
Then girls wear suits and ties and skirts wear boys.