Caliban, Caliban, Caliban ran
He’s no longer Prospero’s man.
There’s a point in life
Where after all the beatings
That beat you down
When every good intention
Is contorted in knots
There is no more running from
There is only running to.
So Caliban ran, Caliban ran
He’s no longer Prospero’s man
But there is no running from Prospero
There is only running to Stephano,
To Trinculo, to another master
Because Caliban can’t exist anymore
Without someone to control him
To govern what he says and does
To decide whatever it is he thinks.
So although Caliban ran, Caliban ran
And he’s no longer Prospero’s man
Nor is he living as his own man.
Caliban, Caliban, hold up your hands
Do you see the shackles,
The glint of silver against tan?
You could have been so much.
You could be so much.
Caliban, Caliban, Caliban ran
He’s no longer Caliban’s man.
Analytic Component
The conceptual starting point for my poem is located within Caliban’s short speech in Act 2, Scene 2 of William Shakespeare’s play The Tempest, wherein Caliban announces, “No more dams I’ll make for fish / Nor fetch in firing / At requiring; / Nor scrape trencher, nor wash dish / ‘Ban, ‘Ban, Cacaliban / Has a new master: get a new man. / Freedom, hey-day! hey-day, freedom! freedom, / hey-day, freedom!” (2.2.1267-1274). These lines are of great interest to me, because they portray what Caliban’s concept of freedom is: Escaping one master for another, potentially (although not necessarily) better master. Although Caliban is delighting in his newfound ‘freedom,’ at this point in the play he has made the choice to become the slave of the character Stephano, rather than of the character Prospero, and specifically states that he, Caliban, “Has a new master” (2.2.1272). Therefore, it would appear that Caliban has a rather contorted view of ‘freedom,’ and is perhaps completely unable to conceptualize a state of being in which he is not subservient to one master or another. I focused heavily on this aspect of Caliban in my poem, and gained further insight into his original character as conveyed by Shakespeare as a result. Although I had already believed that Caliban had a mental inability to live as a free man without someone serving as his master, I realized while writing this poem that Caliban also has a fundamental misunderstanding of what freedom truly is. He actually truly believes that, once he leaves Prospero for a new master, he has become free, even though he is only choosing Stephano has a master over Prospero, and is remaining in his position of servitude to another. Therefore, I chose to reflect this state of mind in my poem, especially in the final two lines: “Caliban, Caliban, Caliban ran / He’s no longer Caliban’s man.” I wrote these lines to specifically show that Caliban is no longer his own man. After serving as a slave to Prospero for many years, his outlook on life is colored by the mentality that he is defined by his own slavery. Caliban is unable to see himself as anything but a subordinate, and this influences both his choices in The Tempest and my new take on him in my poem.
My adaptation of Caliban focuses on this concept, and uses Caliban to show the consequences of the loss of one’s internal self. This is shown in the lines of my poem where I state, “Because Caliban can’t exist anymore / Without someone to control him / To govern what he says and does / To decide whatever he thinks.” Because Caliban does not know how to exist as a free person, he has effectively lost part of his identity, and my new adaptation of him portrays him in this light. As the focus of my poem was such a specific aspect of Caliban’s character, it was inevitable that he would both lose and gain characteristics from Shakespeare’s original portrayal of him to my adaptation. For example, I made the decision not to portray the mutinous side of Caliban’s character in my poem, whereas this is an integral aspect of the plot of The Tempest. Although there are many facets to Caliban’s personality, my poem takes a very specific approach to this character, using him as an example of the loss of self and struggle with identity that many people in the real world struggle with every day in the real world. Because of this, my adaptation of Caliban does not include much mention of his capricious and rebellious nature. However, my new take on Caliban also adds to his essential character. While he is a combined villain and victim in The Tempest, his status in my poem is different. I chose to portray Caliban in such a light that he is far more of a victim than a villain, which allows his character to gain the suggestion of Caliban’s potential and capacity for being something far more than he actually is. Although the Caliban of my poem has been beaten down all his life, I mention his original “good intentions,” which are mentioned only very briefly in The Tempest (such as when it is mentioned that Caliban tried to show Prospero the island’s wonders), and attempted to create a sense of what Caliban could have been like had he not been so heavily beaten down, both physically and mentally. This is evident in several of the lines in my poem, such as when I address Caliban, telling him “You could have been so much. / You could be so much.” There is the possibility of a better Caliban, but only before and after his loss of identity. Although Caliban is not a one-dimensional, mustache-twirling villain in The Tempest to begin with, my poem adds to him a sense of possibility: The possibility of what he had the potential to become before his slavery mindset took hold of him, and, in turn, what he has the potential to become if he is able to cast off that mindset.