From a rocky hill he glares my way,
as if to say, i'm here to stay.
Don't you dare bother coming here,
this is my desert is that clear?
I am the master of all i survey,
and my friend you'll never see the day,
you can ever hope to be this free,
here i am the king, you'll never be.
My subjects range all through this land,
through spiny cactus and burning sand,
there's some i only see at night,
and when they see me they take to flight.
I've been called Wiley, and that's the truth,
of my own prowess, i need no proof.
And you can hear me sing at night,
with my voice so sweet it's a delight.
I'm going now, not because of fear
but because I detest having you near.
You don't belong, here in my realm,
un-like me you'd be overwhelmed.
5/3/10 29 palms ca
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem