He creates a hell venue,
with that Assad parvenu.
Kill civilians—they don’t care;
for them, all in war is fair.

Since old-news empire’s fallen,
Bashir has come a callin’.
They commit war crime.
But for Trump, Vlad’s divine.

To the rescue
of Assad, choke-Ukraine redo.
It’s Aleppo where now he hits:
Putin on a blitz.

Folks survive on what they may tote;
some alive despite the way smote.
Blown to bits.
Putin on a blitz.

Sending in his minions, the storm troopers.
They should both be in The Hague, this two scourge…
gruesome-crew scourge.

He don’t nix those rocket-shellers;
They are pricks, those shock-troop fellers. . .
Won’t kibitz.
Putin on a blitz.

Nasty apparatchik, Stalin-mad, he
asks the blasted vanquished, “Who’s your daddy?
Da, me, Vladie!!”

Now he’s buddied up with Bashar;
he’s a nasty bastard bad Tsar.
Perfect fits:
Putin and sick twist.

Aleppo destroyed almost completely;
many hospitals bombed indiscreetly.
Repeatedly.

He’s ensconced; him there’s no stopping.
as he helped elect our mock king.
Can’t-squash nits:
Putin, Herr hair-knits.