What's Sappho Owed? (language-ish)

[Leanne]

Listen all you penis-encumbered wankers
Here’s the drum of Sappho’s enpopsicled whimsy
Through her deep and sorrowful feted stanzas
Genius wanders

You who think a willy’s what makes a poet
Dream of one day writing such inky goodness
But your words go farting through septic puddles
Filling the sewers

Sappho, she who cunningly lingers windward
Waves her untrimmed minge right across your pages
Poor pretender, never can you imagine
What you are missing