I need revisions please...

This poem was inspired after I read a critic's bio of Poe and how he was a true artist. Although I don't disagree, I do disagree with the critic, and Poe, for discrediting many of his contemporaries. Poe believed that poetry was an art form that excluded lessons or intellectual truths. Instead, he believed poets were artist who described artfully. He was a master at what he did, and I'm not discrediting constructive criticism; however, I'm not sure who made these elitist the authority on poetry? In fact, if you've read my other works, I tend to be fanatical, concerning elitist. I don't like'em!!

Critique of Critics

Critical eyes may look Away
my methods are too much
I choose to see colors
Many colors and hues

My Tell, Tell heart will tell tales-
tales begging to be told
such as
how Poe's pretty raven flew
But I enjoy much, much more
than tremble cadence tales

Longfellow encouraged all fellows
to pickup the pen
And Dickinson’s truths scolded
Without stirring violent waters
She gave- to the future-
Carefully wrapping, using "slant"

Still, you'll make pompous procedures
For me, they don't apply
Your rules are heavy restrictions
With me, rules don't survive
Elitism spawns your selfish
Language oligarchy

Choose your own lot
If you must
Go follow Poe's poetic pulse
yet, I have no Harvard Hippies
I need no Cambridge Clowns
I'll write a million lines
how you followed the drunkard down
And found your lonely grave

I’ll stand with those resolved
to write, to expose
freely running thoughts into poetry
through poetic prose
running thoughts wildly
in-and-out of rhythm
Writing as Poe's novice foe
I"ll stand- "A Loaded Gun"-
with my pen at my side