A Poem for January: The World is a Beautiful Place by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

It's January, the arbitrary but widely-agreed-upon season of reflection and renewal. I'm an avid but inconsistent poetry reader, occasionally critical but more often in search of words which resonate, regardless of source. Today I thought I'd share a poem which I return to whenever I'm in need of a little perspective in my pondering.

Lawrence Ferlinghetti is first and foremost (in my opinion), a great reader and curator. As a bookseller and a publisher (City Lights Books and Publishing), Ferlinghetti has been an advocate of radical writing since the early 1950's. He famously stood trial for obscenity charges as the publisher of Allen Ginsberg's Howl, a poem which has stood the test of time and emerged as a testament to the struggle of a disenfranchised youth.

(By Cmichel67 (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons)

This poem of Ferlinghetti's neither comforts nor condemns us in its confrontation of the human condition. He perfectly captures the melancholy conundrum and joyful nonsense that is life on earth. To me it has an almost scriptural feeling, shifting and revealing new dimensions upon each re-reading.

The World is a Beautiful Place

Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind happiness
not always being
so very much fun
if you don't mind a touch of hell
now and then
just when everything is fine
because even in heaven
they don't sing
all the time

The world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't mind some people dying
all the time
or maybe only starving
some of the time
which isn't half bad
if it isn't you

Oh the world is a beautiful place
to be born into
if you don't much mind
a few dead minds
in the higher places
or a bomb or two
now and then
in your upturned faces
or such other improprieties
as our Name Brand society
is prey to
with its men of distinction
and its men of extinction
and its priests
and other patrolmen

and its various segregations
and congressional investigations
and other constipations
that our fool flesh
is heir to

Yes the world is the best place of all
for a lot of such things as
making the fun scene
and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
and singing low songs and having inspirations
and walking around
looking at everything
and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
and even thinking
and kissing people and
making babies and wearing pants
and waving hats and
dancing
and going swimming in rivers
on picnics
in the middle of the summer
and just generally
'living it up'
Yes
but then right in the middle of it
comes the smiling

mortician

P. S. If you enjoyed this and want more of it, I highly recommend seeking out the City Lights Pocket Poets Anthology, 60th Anniversary Edition. Available (in the US and the UK at least) wherever you buy books.

Do these words speak to you like they speak to me? Have a favorite poem you're reading as you consider the new year? Let me know in the comments!