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Computer art?  Technology is awesome but it has its limitations. It 
makes our lives easier and faster but it cannot touch the heart and
soul. My point is simple...tweak a recognizable icon and bend its
purpose.  Those who see my work can draw their own conclusions.   
steve M.

Art is the language of the new revolution
It penetrates culture in the most significant ways
Poetry, sculpture, music, drama, paintings
and other expressions are the tools of transformation.

Art floats like incense
between the cracks of the human spirit
It touches the wounded and broken


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"introspective" could I but have in my life the things I have lost the moments, the people the paths I have crossed truly would I be laden with riches beyond value or measure for such is Life's treasure and yet - I am poor for all this I have held in the palms of my hands within my embrace they are gone without trace and so I stand here alone in the silence of my tears the regret, the remorse for the wasting of years and running from my fears By: Antonio Cabrera
OPEN GRAVE I sit on a piece of granite, looking out across the rolling hills, the grass waves in the wind. I sit in the shade of a big oak tree, the leaves rustle in the wind, a flock of birds fly by, it's so peaceful and quiet. I look down, I sit on a tomb stone, in front of me is an open grave. I look down and I see my self, dismembered, bones shattered, skull crushed, flesh rotting, and no one cares. The tomb stone says, "Here lies the sole, one day the body will join." © 2004 Amon Zilkie LIFE Why live? Why die? Why not? Why live, because there is a day God created, and he wants me to live it. I will stand, because I'm tired of sitting by. I will follow God all the days of my life. I will shine the light in a dark world. I will speak the truth in an ocean of liars. I will live! yes, I will live. © 2004 Amon Zilkie THE BEAT My heart beats, life is sustained, I'm alive. A drop of crimson falls, with each beat a drop falls, they leak from the wounds on my heart. Scars from old wounds next to fresh ones, words spoken stab, actions done pierce, and so the wounds go. I'm impaled on a shaft of pain. One day the pain will stop, one day the crimson won't fall, one day the beat will stop, how I long and wait. © 2004 Amon Zilkie A SHIP OF WAR I'm on a warship, in the middle of a battle, explosions rock the decks, shells arch through the air. As they strike, the ship shakes, the ship rocks as the guns fire, repair crews rush to fix the damage and put out the fires, but the fire spreads through the ship, until it's enveloped by flames, pumps try to get the water out, but more rushes in, I'm not sure if I'm going to live through, let alone win, this is what my battle is like, and I'm not sure what to do about it. © 2004 Amon Zilkie MERCIFUL DEATH Merciful death, rain down upon me, put out the fire of life, make the hurting cease. Merciful death, rain down on me, I want the pain to stop, make the loneliness cease. Merciful death, rain down upon me, let my life pass on, don’t hold me here please. Merciful death, rain down on me, please, merciful death, rain down on me. © 2004 Amon Zilkie FAREWELL MY FRIEND My friend, we have been together for so very many years. My friend, I find myself thinking of all that we’ve done. My friend, I think of how much I will miss you in the time to come. My friend, can you or I should say couldn’t you have stayed longer. My friend, I ponder these knowing you can’t answer my thoughts. My friend, how can I go on alone, with out you in my life? My dear friend, I ask you these questions as I hold your hand, looking down into your casket. © 2004 Amon Zilkie A SOLDIER OF CHRIST I am a soldier of Christ, I want to live for my Lord, Though at times it is hard, I still stumble at times but, I am a soldier of Christ, It’s hard to hold up the cross, My body falls short so much, although at times it’s hard, I am a soldier of Christ, I am forgiven of much, I tell all my friends, but it seems they don’t care, I am a soldier of Christ, I have fought for so long, To be like Jesus the Christ, because He loves me so, I am a soldier of Christ, who loves my Lord Jesus Christ, I’m still a mere little one, yet I am a soldier of Christ, © 2004 Amon Zilkie THE LAST HOUR OF LIFE The clock starts, in one hour a piece of my heart will die, now it's down to fifty-five minutes, what am I suppose to do, what would you do with fifty minutes left, no time to do anything, not that I want to do anything, only five minutes left, my soul is bracing, as the time comes, the pain is great, and when the time is here, a 15 year ministry dies, and a peace of my heart goes with it, I wonder how I can live without it? 3/7/97 (Dedicated to the memory of KRDS) © 2004 Amon Zilkie
A gift given, a promise kept His Spirit's wisdom A heart blessed To know the passion And willing hurt Of the Savior's heart For a world that has turned Away from His love to its unyielding chains Away from His peace to its misery inflamed Away from His grace to its unfruitful work Away from His joy to its ashes unearthed To a life and a death Forsaken and un-freed Oh God may I choose To be given as a seed As a flower when it blooms For a people you have made As a light in the darkness That does not fade To a world that is reeling From the blindness Ransom Jesus withdrew His life from Heaven's store And far more than paid the ransom due When death enveloped the Son of God With whip and nails and darkened skies His cries arose, his spear-pierced side And when at last His Spirit poured His body limp, the grave His store The ransom paid, His life no more He burst the seal of death and shame The Son arose, eternal flame And spread forth light and life anew Forgiveness, joy, God's love broke through And now we rest, the threat no more His peace replace the fear our store Our choice to see or know no more The beauty of this Open Door By: Will Potter
God Demolish the World If the world were a sea shell, I would never hold it up to my ear. The screams of agony and horror, the gasps for air from people, surrounded by a poisonous gas that is their sin. Some cry, for their mistakes are many, and their excuses are running out. The unknown murder of little ones, as their young mothers grieve at their regrettable choices. Young girls starve themselves because they are not comfortable with the way people see them. Men taking the purity out of lives. Replacing it with darkness, a living hell. What used to be the greatest things only exist in a few. A few that stand out in this vast place full of hell-bounds. In these few, you can find faith, hope, and love. In these few, you can find God's will, burning like a raging fire. A fire that will never be put out. If the world were a sea shell, God would lay it down and smash it with His foot. And with His hands He would make a new one. Sounds of kind words, and laughter. Pure people living life to its fullest. Pure people living in a world of no more pain. GOD DEMOLISH THE WORLD. By: Sarah
A Vision (True story. I wrote this when I was 12.) I lay in bed waiting for sleep to come I closed my eyes and saw a face It was the face of God Then God's face slowly started to fade into the distance Just enough so that I could still barely see him Objects came into the picture I saw a radio and a television set I saw a basketball and a football And other things that bring me pleasure and happiness God was just beyond these objects He was being blocked out but he did not leave These objects did not stay however They came and they went just as all pleasures do Throughout it all though, God was still there God is always there By: Kevin M.
A Dying World I've been a part of this world too long I understand the way things work I don't want to be here any longer Take me away God I don't want to live in this world I want to live in You By: Kevin M.
Have A Nice Day Hatred, Anger, Violence Everyone in a rush Alleviated pain Not very much Intentional accidents Crime rates high Everything gone screwy Day after day we ask why A world in deep trouble Yet still we must try By: Kevin M.
Creation Speak to me Message with no words Speak life into me As it was spoken into you It took but a word I bet it was a whisper By: Kevin M.
Marathon Man Been running from my sins for as long as I can remember Never been quite fast enough Only time I get away Is when He carries me to safety All I want to do is stop running for a moment When can I stop running? Will I ever be able? Without you Lord I am weak and I am worthless I'm a soul without a purpose My feet, they are so weary And my path, it is well worn I want to let it go But my grip, it just won't let me I want to let go Yet I'm constantly clinging Without you Lord I am proud and I am selfish I'm so completely helpless My legs, they are so tired And my road, it is endless Bones and muscles aching Marathon mistaking Long distance running I'm running from my shadow I'm running from myself How hard, how far it doesn't matter I could never run enough Only time I get away Is when He carries me to safety By: Kevin M.
A Place of Abundant Smiles I dream of a place of abundant smiles Where laughter never dies Where pain no longer has life And people no longer cry I dream of a place where children's pets no longer "run away" And those same children are free to play To run and dance and sing and shout And laugh hysterically I dream of a place where pain is no longer mandatory And disease has no place to live Where cemeteries are unnecessary Because death has no more to give I dream of a place where fires never burn And waters never drown Wounds no longer hurt And tears don't hit the ground I dream of a place where beauty never fades And the skies no longer gray Darkness runs away For the Light is here to stay I dream of a place where the heart of justice beats no more For it has no reason to Even if it still lived There would be no more work for it to do I dream of a place where I can smile And not just for a moment Where happiness is no longer just an occurrence It is an eternity And I dream this dream become reality So that I might dream no more I know this place is real Will You take me there? By: Kevin M.
the wretched beast is not satisfied with the souls of men but the search alone for breads of bone will quench his wicked head and the foulest words of human kind will never sway his cause nor will scores of perfect chores ever give it pause
reluctantly i stood up half slouched, fully shamed i could feel their eyes peering deep within me then a thought came to me what had i to fear? had i come this far just to back down in the presence or oppression
ever embarking on this perpetual journey searching for the man i need to become somehow not abandoning the person i am mixing needs with wants reaching reason, holding faith do i chase a dream, or do i accept reality somethings crumble, somethings stand strong new traps built, and old ones built anew am i taking one path while watching another or have i unwittingly taken the one holding my eyes
I Am Yours The shadows call my name, I listened, then I came. They wanted my soul, Their eyes, dark as coal. They drew my spirit in, Their world smothered me in sin. I am now lost inside, In the shadows I will hide. God, if you're there, call my name, Release me from the bonds of pain. Take me away, Don't let me sway. If I promise to give you my all, Will you hold me, that I may not fall? No longer do I want to hide, So today, my flesh died. Take away the false illusion, And break the chains of great confusion. Open my eyes, let me see, Make yourself a reality. I'll fight through the crowd of cries, And struggle then to meet your eyes. The eyes that burn with holy flame, I will never be the same. Take me away to the flowing rain, Deliver me from once perpetual pain. Open my soul's eyes, Make me realize: I Am Yours... By: Rudy Ramirez
Ann McCaffrey Elder is an editor,poet,writer and visionary. Her input to this site is valued. Her viewpoints on art have clarity and yet lack pretense.

          Art as a Ministry Tool

For the purpose of my line of thought, I rephrased the question to: Can art be a relevant ministry tool? and I control the definition creative/art as those things which are not strictly scientific fields. In my personal experience, science and art must meld in order to create "successful" art. One needs linguistics to write, one needs to understand physics, kinetics and chemistry [gravity, movement, what mixes and what separates, etc.] to make visual art, one needs to know tones and rhythm to create audio art. What I am stating is my opinion at this present time. I am an evolving person. The more I live the more I realize I do not know about living, and my purpose for living. This is not a depressing thing for me, but fascinating because I am freed to not live within the limits that others have placed on me, or the limits I have placed on myself. The creation process is for me an act of serving, pouring out what is within me. I believe that is true of anyone who writes or paints or sculpts or carves. There is a necessity to express that which is within, whether it is for personal fulfillment or for public appreciation. Some people create but never display their works, or never have the opportunity to display their works, but they are nonetheless artists [whether they perceive themselves in that way or not]. For me there is no such thing as Christian art or secular art. Art is art. Some art is good, some art is bad. One's personal philosophies do not make the art[ist] good or bad although beliefs and passions [can] affect the product of one's creativity. I think there are many occasions when the artist may have created out of his or her personal necessity or purpose, but the observer may have a different interpretation of that creation. An example would be the upcoming movie release, The Passion of the Christ. Because I have not yet seen the movie I cannot address the quality but must rely on reviews and interviews. The movie was created by Mel Gibson in his desire to tell about the last hours of the life of Jesus Christ. Because Mel Gibson is a Christian this movie is being judged [for the positive and negative] by its topic rather than by its artistic merit. One accepted "good" artist is Leonardo da Vinci who depicted The Last Supper [of Jesus Christ] in one of his paintings. This is one of the most recognizable "Christian" paintings, and yet Da Vinci held to pagan [in its archaic definition] philosophies and created some of the most heretical art. I use Da Vinci as an example. Because his works are so recognizable, and because he is so respected as an artist, many Christians use his works as fundamentals for ministry. There is a church in my town that uses the painting The Last Supper as a tool for evangelism. This church presents a drama, The Living Last Supper, where the actors step into the "painting" and freeze in position as the narrator tells their individual histories. History speaks. Leonardo da Vinci brought a piece of history to life through art, art is used to present the Gospel which will enable this church to minister to the needs [physical, emotional, spiritual] of the community. Is art serving? Yes. Art may be people service [created for the public appreciation]. Art may be self service [selfish]. Art may be a service, response to and fellowship, with the Creator. Again, good art or bad art cannot be defined by its purpose. Ministry is the act of serving [according to the dictionary]. There is no question about ministry-it is serving. Pouring one's self out. I think the objects of service for art can apply to ministry as well. I am certain that there are people who would question this statement [especially without the luxury of elaboration], I do not think all ministry is by nature good. Because I believe my art is inspired [given to me] by God my primary purpose of expression is to serve Him. For whatever reason my art has also been appreciated by the public. This is secondary for me, but it has allowed that which I have created [if I may take such ownership based on my previous statement of inspiration] to be used for ministry. This is a gift to me on several levels. I do not create art for art sake. I create it out of survival. I am slow to label myself an artist, in fact it is only recently that I have ever referred to myself in that way, and that was only out of convenience. I do not serve for the sake of serving [I am by nature a selfish person]. Ideally I serve out of obedience to God; realistically I sometimes serve because I do not want to be [perceived] as selfish or I am trying to find purpose beyond my petty aspirations. In 1 Corinthians 9.19-23, the author [Paul] writes: "Even though I am free of the demands and expectations of everyone, I have voluntarily become a servant to any and all in order to reach a wide range of people: religious, nonreligious, meticulous moralists, loose- living immoralists, the defeated, the demoralized- whoever. I didn't take on their way of life. I kept my bearings in Christ-but I entered their world and tried to experience things from their point of view. I've become just about every sort of servant there is in my attempts to lead those I meet into a God-saved life. I did all of this because of The Message. I didn't just want to talk about it; I wanted to be in on it!" [The Message] For me art is relevant to ministry. For a mechanic changing the oil in someone's car is relevant to ministry. Ministry is about being poured out being willing to be poured out beyond our own limits. I happen to demonstrate/communicate that "action" through art. For me I look to Jesus Christ as an example of someone who magnificently wove ministry, practicality and art. Historical records tell us that he used storytelling [oral art] to teach about the spiritual realm, and before he left his home to travel around and teach he was a carpenter. Although I do not profess to know much about the technical requirements of carpentry I do know that it's a technical vocation. In addition to the practical requirements there is also a creative process as the carpenter works with the temperament and imperfections of the wood. When Jesus Christ traveled about he also met the very tangible needs of the people around him. What better example of artist-the Creator-John 1.1-5. What better example of servant-John 13.12-17. What better example of someone who poured himself out- Matthew 27 and 28. For Him I will pour myself out. By: Ann McCaffrey Elder
The Wages of Sin

So you call yourself a Christian, sitting in this bar that you're in; a beer in one hand and an extra-marital affair in the other. You go home and fall to your knees praying that nobody saw you in your "moment" of weakness. So you call yourself a Christian. You have the most ex- pensive car and the best kept secrets in the entirecon- gregation. You thought it all went unnoticed, covering your guilt with your best blue suit and the cheesiest smile you can muster. So you call yourself a Christian as you beat the perverbial hell out of your wife as your children cower in the corner of their rooms wondering when mommy will stop screaming and crying. So you call yourself a Christian as you call a black man, "nigger", and desperately try to ignore the fact that your boss is a woman. You try to put yourself above them in your mind. Your fierce anger burns your flesh. So you say you're a Christian with your white hood and burning cross, preaching anger and destruction. You try to steal back what has been taken from you by the god you serve, the god of hate. So you say you've hit rock-bottom. No way out. You desperately try to run from your obligations and re- sponsibilities by drinking yourself into oblivion. As you drive to the nearest nowhere, you gently drop the revolver between your teeth, sobbing uncontrolably, knowing that the damage that you've done could never be reversed. "Nobody knows, nobody cares", you say? Well, maybe nobody here on earth. The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord. The Lord your God can save you - if you let Him. By: Kate

Everyday As I open the door and walk down the street, All I can do is look at my feet. Side by side striding together, Never alone they have eachother. Through the dark and weary days, Always leading me through the haze. They've seen the silence, heard the cries, Closing doors in your eyes. People always staring at me, Reminds me this is reality. Silence follows where ever I go, The time that passes is always too slow. Cold stares striking my cheek, Making my body cold and weak. Rejection follows my every turn, Sinking in deep like a burn. Why can't they turn and walk away? Instead they look and stare all day. I serve the one that lived this life. I found out his name is Jesus Christ. His life was harder to bear. He died for me that's why I care. He is always there by my side. Always matching my every stride. When I fall he is there for me. He is the best friend there could ever be. He helps me up and shows me the way. He comforts me, Everyday. By: Matt Life? Filled with hate, Confined with rage, Deceptions around every turn. Unblinking eyes, out of the darkness. Voices reaching out, Hands beating you down, Tongues thrashing like whips. People like clouds, blocking out sunlight. Minds full of despair, Mouths kicking your soul, Fire burning your heart. Hands helping you up, Arms showing you the way, Joy bouncing off walls, Tongues uplifting your name. By: Matt A Light In A World Of Night A world of gray sorrow A soul of tomorrow going into a world of betrayal and mistrust. As a light in mass of night. Hope is a thing that is but not for those that dwell in the black of night. Only the lover of the light seem to find the way through all the hearts of brutal mentalities of the world Through the ashes of gray soot there seems to be a light shining through. Growing brighter and piercing the black with no lack of fervor or persistence it breaks its way through. No sound is heard but that of freedom from these black slave masters who have kept the light captive for so long. But, it has been so stong overcoming not by its strength but that of above. This is the stongest of love that can break through the barriers and chains of destructive black death. By: Shane C. LUCKY ONE I've got a tombstone on my belly. Every day it sneers at me. Sixteen scars are to remind me of what you gave, then took from me. Jesus, you're the lucky one, playing with my little son in your holy hands. I don't understand. He's up with you now running free-- does he even try to remember me? I've been left behind on the lonely side.... How long? How long will this last? And I begrudge you all the treasures you have stolen from my grasp. Sometimes I miss forsaken pleasures that would help me forget this past. Jesus, you're the lucky one, sitting in the hallways of the sun; yah, you know it all, you've got it figured out. And I'm left here, standing dumb. Is this your way of having fun? Do you laugh at me from eternity? Jesus, you're the lucky one. All of your hard work is done, when for us below time moves way too slow. I guess it shouldn't surprise me... Jesus, more than anybody, you can see how pretty scars can be. How pretty. By: Paula Heaven Bound A free ticket To Heaven Sits there, waiting to be noticed By those who search For truth It's free, so take it Not for granted though A free ticket on the train of lost souls Heading above To find salvation And at the end of the line He stands there, arms wide open Embrace you, He wants to So go, be embraced By: Ramya (untitled) Razorblades, many cries Yelling, screaming, infinite lies Thinking back on your past You don't know how long you'll last Tears fill your eyes When you remember the good times The thought goes away As you come back to today You thought you could escape from reality Tired and bored with silly mortality You'd give anything to get away Just for one day Wishing your dreams would rescue you Wishing that someone else knew No one but yourself, your soul You've tumbled too far down the rabbit hole By: Ramya Before and After Before, I was lost And alone in the dark Before, I had nothing No life, no heart I didn't know real love That true love from above Then I found You The one love that's true After that I had hope, a life, and a cause I learned to let go of everyones flaws Now I know that genuine love That dwells up above By: Ramya A BETTER PLACE someday, someday I'll be in a better place no evil, no pain no death, but golden roads believers, Christians and people I know, people I don't know enjoy life as it is then go onto heaven to live with God for eternity in a better place By: Sean age 11 I'm gonna blaze you with this heat this unthinkable feat cause I'm rappin for the Lord Christ the holy host and I don't mean to boast but I'm a Christian following in the Lord's footsteps becomin a leader creatin a path if you've made a mistake it's alright come back to the Lord and repent he'll forgive you By: Sean age 11 Drug addicts act like they aren't gonna die continuously gettin' high if you live life right no drugs, drinkin' or smokin' if you accept the Lord into your heart and repent you'll live in heaven. People are gonna pressure you to drink, smoke and do drugs if you do that, there's a consequence. You'll end up below us while we're up in Heaven with God you'll be down with the devil swimmin' in a lake of fire with all that evil. So I'm tellin' you now don't drink, smoke or do drugs you could end up in jail, rehab or homeless and I'll tell you I don't wanna be there. Christ - my anti-drug By: Sean age 11 The Circular Curse A pattern followed Each one with their mouth They have swallowed One another Following this sphere of chaos A circular pattern appears Dancing with each of the others fears They drown in this circle of tears Every age of time Shows the same Rage and crime Each generation shows the same They may have a different name But they have this same circular curse. By: Shane C. The Eyes Of Time Every Object with the fingerprints of humanity Has been shown through for what it is With all its pains and vanity Seen through For what it truly is. For the eyes of time are watching They are set a blaze With the last breaths of our tiny earth They remember its beginning birth It was a word spoken that makes what is And it is a word spoken that makes what is to come. I stand back watching everything I touch turn to crimson stone As if Medusa had just glared into my world. For I am a shadow in this abyss of earthly possessions Each leading to its own deadly obsessions. For my hands are not clean nor my every word. For every word spoken with its distinct tone Of temporary existence As drop of water into the endless sea of eternity My existence is short but Not without meaning For my persistence comes for I know that what is seen is only a glimpse And what I need is found in love It is my God that sends this meaning of life to me from above It makes the fingerprints of humanity become less and the sanitizer of love become more By: Shane C.
Take this red drenched dagger out of your side It is those secrets that could not hide Those sins That deepen the hold inside It has been removed With no act of your Part It has to be the grace of God Drops of red clearness drip onto The soil of a bloodthirsty earth A man brought here by a foretold virgin birth How pure are the drops of crimson blood That stains the hands of the innocent victim Sent for this dying frail humanity That uses its maker’s name As a profanity. Can’t you see the hand out stretch drench with the stains of your sin Engraved holes in within His vary skin. Embrace this true one The master of all Saved nature from his destined fall. By: Shane C.
Gun against the temple. Rock hard. Trigger waits to be pulled. Cold metal pressed against my skin. The chill erotic, but so very wrong. Rope around my neck. So dominant, and so deadly. Feeling death wrap its arms around you. Carry you home. Beautiful Suicide. Standing in the rain. The sky so black. All I hear is the fall of rain. Demeter's tears. You are not near. I don't hear your steps. I'm alone again. Wondering where you are. I'm dead inside. Need to feel alive. Blade against my skin. Just so I can feel By: Christine

"O Lord my God I called to You for help and you healed me. O Lord You brought me up from the grave, You spared me from going down into the pit." ~ Psalm 30:2-3

 Use gentle words with a broken soul, Something inside me died. No longer whole. Can't fathom the idea that joy is real, How can I when anguish is all I feel? God left me so long ago. Lost beneath a dark sky, I was just a little girl. Left to eternally cry. Ten years have passed, but it's still the same. No answer when I'm drowning; calling His name. One of His creations asks me to hold on, But how can I when I know his love is gone? By: Christine

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." ~ Psalm 34:18

 The Savior of the Month Club In times of true desperation and need, many of us seek out remedies for our pain. Much of this consolation is found in a shallow and temporary fix. "The Savior of the Month Club" documents this cycle of miscalculated therapy that we fall prey to. We graciously cry out familiar names, giving thanks to our vice of the moment, confused by the salvation we think it brings..."Oh, I really need a cigarette (Breath of Life)…I could really use a beer right now (King of Kings)…my life would be so different if I could just win the lottery (Our Father)…oh, if it weren't for that condom, I don't know what I'd do! (The Savior)" Yet, as the viewer creates a relationship with these vices, he is forced to look deeper. Searching beyond the surface, one finds evidence of a remedy that serves all situations, vices, and the repercussions they create. Suddenly, the viewer sees what they may not have noticed at first glance. No longer able to fixate on any one vice, the viewer is drawn back to the true remedy that lies beneath all things, and the old temporary vices begin to lose their hold.
The Kiss of Death Seductive eyes flash behind hypnotic lashes Luscious lips hide venomous fangs Smooth words roll off a forked tongue Sweet breath that entangles the senses like perfume She is not what she seems She knows not the meaning of true love Eyes that pierce the heart and rob it blind of all it had Kisses that turn to poison within the mouth Words that suffocate like a black hole The scent, so irresistible, is the stench of a deepening grave She is not what she seems She knows not the meaning of true love Seductive eyes that search the street with lifeless movement Luscious lips that bring her under her own curse Smooth words that only promise a one-night-stand Sweet breath that is already decaying within her She is not what she seems She knows not the meaning of true love Inspired by Proverbs 5 written by Holly B.