Ode to the Underdog Canvas to Sylvester Stallone by Stefano Donno

In the ring of recycled scripts, where shadows

punch through celluloid haze, you rise—

not with thunder, but the slow grind of dawn

on Philadelphia steps, each footfall a syllable

unrhymed, experimental, like flarf's chaotic scrape

against expectation. Your face, a map of nerve-

twisted triumphs, snarls in verse libre, free

from iambic chains, pulsing with hybrid beats:

the staccato of gunfire in jungle green,

the legato swell of family reels on streaming screens.

Now, at seventy-nine, cane in hand like a scepter

of abstract strokes—your paintings bleed

eco-tones of resilience, cross-cultural oils

mixing Italian grit with American myth.

Kennedy lights crown your brow, ambassador

to Hollywood's fractured empire, where Trumpian

echoes mingle with Biden nods, a conceptual weave

of red and blue. Yet you endure, underdog eternal,

bodybuilder turned brush-wielder, father of five

in reality's unscripted frame. Your legacy?

A digital metamorphosis: from Rambo's blade

to Balboa's heart, innovative yet accessible,

a poem that fights back, one frame at a time.

Rambo's Palette

Verses splinter like shrapnel, not in pentameter's cage

but wild, gurlesque fury tamed to whisper—

your public snarl, a birthright scar, evolves

into abstract swirls on Palm Beach canvases,

2026's gallery glow under LA lights.

Macho mythos hybridizes with paternal soft:

Sophia, Sistine, Scarlet in the family stall,

Sage's absence a Hindu rite etched in oil.

Action's undercurrent pulses irregular,

eco-poetry of survival: jungle wars to urban rings,

where Rocky climbs not mountains, but awards—

Golden Globe grasp, Oscar nods like dodged hooks.

Cane-assisted stride at Kennedy honors,

a metrical shift from sprint to saunter, authentic

voice of aging icon, Trump-praised "second Washington,"

yet gun-control advocate, spiritual wanderer

critiquing church agonies. Your films gross billions,

six decades topping charts, a conceptual collage

of comebacks: from Cliffhanger drops to Creed revivals.

In this vibrant scene, you paint perseverance,

ubiquitous yet peripheral, a poem that bleeds

innovation into the everyday fight.

Expendable Echoes

Free verse fractures like Expendables' ensemble,

experimental metrics mimicking heartbeat skips—

da-dum, pause, reload—in the theater of your life.

Public image: resilient titan, self-made from Hell's Kitchen

poverty to Mar-a-Lago myths, where politics hybridize

Republican roots with Democratic donations.

Your achievements stack like screenplay drafts:

Rocky's Best Picture punch, Rambo's five-film rampage,

MCU cameos in galactic volleys.

Now, 2025's cane debut signals no defeat,

but tonal shift to artist's atelier, abstract works

debuting in fairs, a cross-cultural collaboration

of muscle and muse. Family reality unspools

on Paramount threads, Balboa Productions births

biopics and escapes. Cultural impact? Ubiquitous verses

on subway walls, recited in momentous gyms—

your underdog ethos, accessible grit wrapped

in innovative snarls, endures beyond the fade to black